Harry's Loophole
by ThinkingSpeck
Summary: [COMPLETE] Harry has been entered in the Triwizard Tournament, but during the shouting match with Ron he realises that he doesn't actually have to risk his life and look like a fool in front of everyone - he really only needs to show up for each task and make a token effort. Single-point-of-departure fic, departing early in book 4. Some text borrowed from J.K. Rowling.
1. Chapter One: Confrontation

**Chapter One: Confrontation**

Harry wanted more than anything to find Ron and Hermione, to find a bit of sanity, but neither of them seemed to be among the roistering Gryffindors in the common room. Insisting that he needed to sleep, and almost flattening the two Creevey brothers as they attempted to waylay him at the bottom of the stairs, Harry finally managed to shake everyone off and climb up to the dormitory.

To his great relief, he found Ron was lying on his bed in the otherwise empty dormitory, still fully dressed. He looked up when Harry slammed the door behind him.

"Where've you been?" Harry said.

"Oh hello," said Ron.

He was grinning, but it was a very odd, strained sort of grin. Harry suddenly became aware that he was wearing the scarlet Gryffindor banner that Lee Jordan had tied around him. He hastened to take it off, but it was tied very tightly. Ron lay on the bed without moving, watching Harry struggle to remove it.

"So," he said, when Harry had finally removed the banner and thrown it into a corner. "Congratulations."

"What d'you mean, congratulations?" said Harry, staring at Ron. There was definitely something wrong with the way Ron was smiling; it was more like a grimace.

"Well... no one else got across the Age Line," said Ron. "Not even Fred and George. What did you use - the Invisibility Cloak?"

"The Invisibility Cloak wouldn't have got me over that line," said Harry slowly.

"Oh, right," said Ron. "I thought you might've told me if it was the cloak... because it would've covered both of us, wouldn't it? But you found another way, did you?"

"Listen," said Harry, "I didn't put my name in that goblet. Someone else must've done it."

Ron raised his eyebrows.

"What would they do that for?"

"I dunno," said Harry. He felt it would sound melodramatic to say, "To kill me."

Ron's eyebrows rose so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his hair.

"It's okay, you know, you can tell _me_ the truth," he said. "If you don't want anyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're bothering to lie, you didn't get into trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Lady's, that Violet, she's already told us all Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to do end-of-year tests either..."

"I didn't put my name in that goblet!" said Harry, starting to feel angry.

"Yeah, okay," said Ron, in exactly the same sceptical tone as Cedric. "Only you said this morning you'd have done it last night, and no one would have seen you... I'm not stupid, you know."

Harry glared and outright growled at his best friend. "For crying out loud, Ron, what do you want me to say? I'm a fourth year - there's no way I can compete with Cedric or Fleur, let alone bloody Krum. Even if I somehow manage not to get injured or killed, I'm definitely going to look like a complete prat in front of everyone. Do you really think I want that? Get it through your head, Ron - I don't _want_ any of this. I hate the fame I already had, and I already have way more money than I know what to do with. There's absolutely no sane reason why I'd want to enter myself in the tournament, even if I knew how. Which I don't, by the way. Come on, you saw how shocked I was when my name came out. I never asked for this, Ron, I swear."

Ron rolled off his bed and strode to Harry, towering over him threateningly. "If you don't want it, then why are you doing it? Why not just quit?"

"Um... Binding magical contract? I lose my magic if I quit, and I'd rather look like a fool than lose my magic."

"So just don't try. Show up at the events, but don't actually try. You'd still be competing, but without all the danger. But you won't, will you? You can't resist the glory, whether you entered your name or not - you just can't stay away from the spotlight."

Harry was staring at Ron, slack-jawed. After a moment his face snapped into a huge grin.

"Of course! Ron, you're brilliant! That's exactly what I'll do, and to hell with anyone who doesn't believe me, and I don't even care whether they think I'm a hero or a villain or whatever."

Ron was now staring at Harry; if anything, he was even more stunned than Harry had been a moment before.

"You... you really mean that? You'd really just give it up like that?"

"Of course I would! I mean of course I will! I mean, what's to give up? It's not as if I could actually win the tournament - like I said, I'd just be making a fool of myself and maybe getting hurt or killed. No thanks."

A smile spread slowly across Ron Weasley's face, happy and relaxed.


	2. Chapter Two: Aftermath

**Author's note:** It occurs to me that this Harry is somewhat OOC - he's much more observant, and he actually has a sense of humour. I'll probably address the sense of humour in text, but for now at least I'm just leaving it implied that the shock of stepping away from his expected role has jolted Harry into thinking much more about the world around him (and hence paying more attention to it).

* * *

When Harry entered the common room the next morning, he was met by yet another raucous round of applause. He briefly considered telling them his decision from the previous night, but caution prevailed and he slipped through to the portrait hole as quickly and quietly as he could; behind him, only a handful of Gryffindors besides Ron and Hermione even seemed to notice that he wasn't lapping up the adulation. Ron and Hermione, incidentally, were talking quietly in a corner - they seemed to be trying, with limited success, to ignore the mindless celebrations around them.

As Harry had expected, he found much the same reception in the Great Hall - from the Gryffindor table, anyway. Hufflepuff, House of the loyal, had closed ranks around their champion Cedric - they were furious that he had been upstaged, and they were making their position perfectly clear. Slytherin, while not personally affected, had seized on the opportunity to tear down the Boy Who Lived - while the Hufflepuffs merely glared, the Slytherins jeered and catcalled as Harry entered. He could even hear them over the cheers of the Gryffindors. As he reached the Gryffindor table, he noticed a great many thoughtful faces at the silent Ravenclaw table - apparently they weren't yet sure what to think. The ghost of a smile flickered across Harry's face at the sheer delightful novelty of someone actually reserving judgement on something to do with him, rather than just jumping to conclusions as everyone else always seemed to.

No sooner had Harry sat down than the Weasley twins appeared out of nowhere and sat down on either side of him.

"Harry -" one of them said excitedly,

"- how'd you do it?" finished the other.

"Our Ageing Potion didn't work -"

"- the whole school knows that -"

"- so what do you know that we don't?"

Harry threw up his hands in mock despair, noting as he did so that quite a few people were paying close attention to his reply.

"You're right, guys - I do know something you don't know. For the last time, I did not put my name in that _sodding_ goblet! The only way I know how to get past an Age Line is to wait a few years. Look, pass the word will you? I didn't bloody do it. I didn't ask anyone else to do it. I have no idea who did it or why, and if I did then I'd be torn between killing them myself or telling McGonagall and letting her do it. I don't want to be in this Tournament, I swear I don't. Cedric's the Hogwarts champion - I'm just trying not to die,and hoping I might hang onto some shred of dignity through all this."

One Weasley twin turned to the other.

"Tricksy little midget isn't he, brother mine?"

"Tricksy indeed, o brother, and a clever tongue to boot."

They carried on, and some others joined in, but Harry had given up for now. He concentrated on eating as fast as he could, doing his best to ignore the banter swirling around him. As soon as he finished, he slipped away without a word. Much to their surprise, though, he didn't head for the door. Instead he walked nervously towards the Hufflepuff table, eyes searching the lines of seated students. Target found, he then made a beeline for one particular handsome sixth-year.

"Cedric, do you have a moment? I really need to speak with you."

Cedric seemed utterly taken aback, but after a look at Harry's expression he allowed himself to be pulled away. The look he gave the younger boy, however, was anything but friendly.

"OK Potter, what's so important? I think we both know what you did and how I feel about it, so I hope you haven't dragged me across here to spin me another line about that."

Harry glared at him for a moment, then grinned.

"Well, I was telling the truth - I really didn't put my name in that Goblet, and I have no idea who did. But I know you're not going to believe me, so I wouldn't drag you here to tell you that. What I wanted to say is that as far as I'm concerned you're the Hogwarts champion, and I've just said the same thing to the whole Gryffindor table. Cedric, I'm scared of this tournament. I'm bloody terrified. I get good marks in Defence, but I'm an undersized fourth-year - there's no way I can compete with you. So I'm not going to. I'll show up at the tasks, because otherwise I lose my magic, but I don't actually have to try my hardest. Whatever the tasks are, I should be able to show up and make some token effort without getting myself hurt or looking too stupid. That's all I want, honestly."

Cedric was staring thoughtfully at Harry. "You really mean that, don't you?"

Harry nodded. "Definitely. I mean, I know this might be hard to believe after everything that's happened in the last three years, but I don't actually want to die."

As Harry walked towards the door, he found himself suddenly flanked by lanky redheads.

"Harry, we were thinking -"

"- we do that, you know -"

"-you should try it sometime -"

"- anyway, we were thinking -"

"- about your plan -"

"- to skive off the tasks."

"And we were thinking -"

"- you might like some help -"

"- potentially even _our_ help -"

"- to make things more interesting when you do."

Harry glanced back and forth between them as the they walked with him up a staircase, and he wore a thoughtful frown. A few quiet seconds after they finished, however, his face broke into an enormous grin.

"Well... I've said I'm not actually going to be doing the tasks properly, so I suppose I'm going to have a bit of time to kill with a lot of people watching me. It'd really be rather a pity to waste that sort of an opportunity, wouldn't it?"

The Twins now wore identical manic grins. Turning to Harry, they gave exaggerated salutes before vanishing purposefully.


	3. Chapter Three: Declaration

**Chapter Three: Declaration**

When Harry returned to Gryffindor common room, he found Hermione waiting for him.

"Harry," she said once she'd dragged him to a quiet corner, "you have to tell Sirius about being entered in the Triwizard Tournament. He's going to find out anyway - you know it'll be in the papers within a day or two - and he'll be really hurt if you don't tell him yourself. You should send him a letter."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I'll do that now, at least a quick note."

After fetching quill, ink and parchment from his trunk, he settled down in the common room to write.

_Dear Sirius,  
You told me to keep you posted on what's happening at Hogwarts, and it'd be a bit terrible if you learned this from the papers instead of hearing it from me. I'm not sure if you know about the Triwizard Tournament, but it's happening at Hogwarts this year. What's more, someone did something to the Goblet of Fire and now I have to compete as a fourth champion. Most of the school thinks I entered myself, though I'm starting to persuade some of them. Ron was really upset but I talked him around last night - yelled at him actually, but it worked. Hermione never had any doubts - she's the one who told me to write this letter, by the way. I think I've convinced the Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory (6th year Hufflepuff), but I don't think the rest of his house believes me. Gryffindor basically thinks I'm a legend, which is annoying - I really do get sick of it. Slytherin thinks it's great - another excuse to cause trouble. Ravenclaw hasn't really decided yet, which is a nice change from everyone else ever._

_Anyway, don't worry about me getting hurt or killed in the tournament - Ron pointed out that I don't actually have to try hard at these tasks (whatever they are), so I'm basically just going to show up and do nothing. Well, not quite nothing - you'll be happy to know that the Weasley twins are making plans for me to make things more interesting. I'll let you know how that goes._

_Nothing much happening other than that, except that I'm feeling more relaxed than I ever have before. Honestly, it's amazing how much better I feel now that I'm not so worried about doing everything that everyone wants me to do. I'm a bit worried about what Dumbledore will do when he finds out what I'm doing, but that's all._

_Hope you're okay, and Buckbeak - Harry_

Harry had addressed the letter and was about to head off to the Owlery to send the letter when Hermione stopped him.

"I'll take it, Harry - you know you can't use Hedwig, and she'd be offended if you refused her."

Harry nodded gratefully and handed the letter over, and Hermione and Ron wandered off towards the Owlery.

* * *

Their first class the next morning was Herbology, with the Hufflepuffs. Professor Sprout was noticeably cold towards Harry at first, so he took the first opportunity to go and speak to her while the rest of the class was working (Neville, his partner, was more than capable of working alone for a few minutes).

"Professor Sprout," Harry said nervously, "I'm not trying to take Cedric's glory. As I told him, there's no way I can do anything in the Tournament except make a fool of myself and maybe die."

"Then what possessed you to enter your name?"

"Nothing. I didn't do it."

She stared at him suspiciously. "Can you prove that, Mr Potter?"

He shrugged helplessly. "How? I've already told the Gryffindors that Cedric's the real Hogwarts champion, and I've already told Cedric that I'm not going to be taking the tasks seriously."

Professor Sprout looked surprised.

"I'm considering making an announcement at dinner tonight - could you arrange that, do you think?"

The dumpy witch positively beamed. "Of course, Harry, of course. I'm sorry for doubting you."

* * *

Their afternoon class was Charms, and Harry found himself fascinated by the lesson. Now that he had stopped worrying so much about the expectations that people put on him, he was somehow more interested in what he was learning. He also found it easier now that other worries weren't getting in the way, and now that he was approaching it from interest rather than just because he had to. After all, as a Triwizard champion he didn't have to take exams this year - if he wanted to, he could just stop showing up to classes. He wasn't in any hurry to test that, but it did help him to relax and (surprisingly) enjoy himself.

At dinner, Harry ate quickly and quietly. Sure enough, Professor Sprout soon caught his eye and motioned him to come up to the Head Table. When he reached her, she cast _Sonorus_ on herself and addressed the Hall.

"Excuse me, everyone. Harry Potter has something he wants to say to you all."

She cast the same spell on Harry as he stepped forward, and he faced the students with a calmness that he hadn't expected. The murmuring around the Hall ceased once more, and the full attention of the entire school was directed at the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry smiled faintly.  
"Alright, I'll keep this short. I didn't put my name in the Goblet. I don't know who did. I didn't ask anyone else to put my name in for me. I didn't want to be in the Tournament, and I still don't.

"Look, I shouldn't be in the Tournament. Everyone here knows that, really. I'm only a fourth-year, and there's no way I can seriously compete with the actual champions. Cedric _is_ the real Hogwarts champion, and realistically the Tournament will be between Cedric, Fleur and Viktor, no matter what I do. So I'll show up to the events, because apparently I lose my magic if I don't, but there's no way I'm risking my life in a contest that I didn't enter and where I'm so far out of my depth."

A stunned silence fell throughout the hall. Gryffindor as a whole was crestfallen and somewhat betrayed. Ravenclaw was surprised. Hufflepuff was astonished and tentatively grateful. Slytherin was just confused, as were Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Harry walked quickly and quietly back to his friends and his dinner, ignoring everyone and everything else.


	4. Chapter Four: The Weighing of the Wands

**Chapter Four: The Weighing of the Wands**

The next morning, Harry was rather relieved when an over-excited Colin Creevey fetched him out of what was shaping up to be an exceptionally unpleasant Potions class. Snape made a few vicious parting comments about Harry's celebrity status and personal worthlessness, but Harry found himself blessedly indifferent to the man. In the end, Snape's words just weren't worth much.

Colin led Harry to a fairly small classroom, which had been rearranged to look sort of official. Ludo Bagman was sitting one one of five chairs behind a row of tables at the front of the room, talking to an unfamiliar witch in magenta robes. Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner, not talking to anyone. Cedric and Fleur were chatting amiably - Harry noted that Fleur looked the happiest that he'd seen her so far. Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, and jumped up excitedly.

"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come... nothing to be afraid about, it's just a wand-weighing ceremony. The rest of the judges will be here in a moment - "

"Wand weighing?" said Harry uncertainly.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman. "The expert's upstairs with Dumbledore - they'll be down in a moment. And then there'll be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter" - gesturing to the witch in the magenta robes - "and she'll be writing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet..."

"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter thoughtfully, giving Harry a frankly predatory stare. Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable, and studied her more closely.

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls, contrasting oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled glasses. The fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in long crimson-painted nails. Harry decided rather abruptly that he really didn't like her.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman, still staring at Harry. "The youngest champion, you know... to add a bit of colour?"

"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is, if Harry has no objection?"

Harry was already backing away from Rita's outstretched hand, his wand drawn and ready. "No!" he yelled, a little louder than he'd intended. The room fell silent, and Harry took the moment to consider his options. When he spoke, his voice was sure.

"Miss Skeeter, I'm sorry, but I'm not going anywhere with you. I have nothing to say to you that I can't say in front of everyone here. I'm happy to give you a story, though."

Skeeter looked uncertain, but couldn't resist the possibility of a juicy story from the Boy Who Lived. She leaned forward, notepad ready. Harry smiled faintly.

"I didn't put my name into the Goblet of Fire in the first place. I didn't ask anyone else to do it for me, and I don't know who did it. I didn't want to be in this tournament, and I still don't. I'm the least important champion here - it's the other three who should be getting all the attention. If you want to do a story about me, could you do one on who put my name in and what's being done about that?"

Rita looked somewhat stunned, but rallied quickly. This wasn't what she was after, but she could spin it well enough anyway. Inside The Private Hell Of The Boy Who Lived? Plot to Get Boy-Who-Lived Killed? The Resentment Of The Boy Who Lived? She'd think of something good. She smiled.

Before Bagman could recover and regain control of the room, Dumbledore entered with Mr Ollivander - Harry recognised the rather creepy old wandmaker from Diagon Alley three years earlier. Close behind them came Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and Mr Crouch. Dumbledore introduced Ollivander, and then the judges all sat down. Ollivander stepped into the middle of the room and called Fleur over. She handed her wand over, and he tested it quickly and efficiently - creepy or not, the man certainly knew his wands. After expressing some doubts about the stability of veela hair as a wand core, he handed the wand back to a visibly-fuming Fleur. Harry made a mental note to avoid annoying the French champion - he didn't fancy getting in the way of a temper like that. She had made unpleasant comments after his name came out of the Goblet, certainly, but this was the first time he'd seen her genuinely offended.

Cedric was next; his wand, an Ollivander creation, was in perfect condition. "Polished it last night," according to Cedric. Then came Harry's wand, which looked beaten and battered and altogether unloved.

"Sorry," said Harry with a hint of embarrassment, "I never really got into the habit of polishing my wand."

His wand worked perfectly nonetheless, and Ollivander's concern for the wand's physical condition seemed swamped by his curiosity about the relationship to Voldemort's wand. Harry saw the effort by which the old man refrained from commenting, and felt validated in his decision not to tell anyone about that connection. He was especially glad that Ollivander managed not to say anything about it in front of Rita Skeeter.

After that there were photos, and Harry found he had very little choice about them. He was pushed and pulled around as Rita and her photographer (a paunchy man whom Harry barely registered as a person) fought over which of the champions should be most prominent in the group photos. Then came individual photos, which were marginally less uncomfortable, and then they were finally free to go.

After dinner, Harry found a school owl waiting on his pillow - a letter from Sirius, as it turned out.

_Harry,_

_I'm glad you seem to have some sense - probably more than I had at your age, truth to tell, and definitely more than your dad did. I'd tell you to be very careful in this tournament, but you know that already. Harry, try not to worry about what people think of you. I had a lot of that when I was at school - some people hated me because of my family, other people loved me because I was a Marauder, and so on. I let it get to my head for a few years there, and I'm not too proud of the person I was back then._

_I'm glad you're happier now, and especially that you're not being pushed around so much. Be your own man, Harry - be yourself, and damn anyone who wants you to live for them instead of for yourself._

_Love, Sirius_

_P.S. Buckbeak's brilliant._


	5. Chapter Five: The First Task

**Chapter Five: The First Task**

* * *

**"I didn't put my name into the Goblet of Fire!"**  
Boy-Who-Lived denies everything

_Gentle readers, your intrepid reporter received quite the shock today! You see, today I finally met Harry Potter for the first time. And let me tell you, dear reader, this young man is nothing like what my fellow journalists would have you believe. From scraps and fragments leaking out of Hogwarts, they have cobbled together an image of a vain, attention-seeking, foolhardy boy with the Devil's own luck and precious little else to recommend him. From what I've seen today, however, nothing could be further from the truth. Today I saw an impressively mature young man doing his best to deflect attention towards his rivals in the Triwizard Tournament, even going so far as to declare himself "the least important champion here." What's more, he steadfastly insisted that he had had no hand in entering his name for the competition in the first place. He maintains that he doesn't even want to be in the tournament - imagine that!_

_Of course, in wanting to avoid the tournament he displays impeccable judgement in regard to his own safety. Remember that the Triwizard Tournament was suspended many years ago because it was too dangerous - injuries are one thing, but too many students were dying. Dying! The revived Triwizard Tournament was supposed to be restricted to students who are of age, and for good reason - only they can realistically hope to stand up to the rigors of such a perilous competition. While it is true that Harry has survived some remarkably dangerous situations by means of exceptional bravery and a good deal of luck, his chances are worryingly slim in a competition designed to challenge exceptional students three years his senior._

_If we accept, as I do, that Harry Potter did not enter his name for the Triwizard Tournament, then we are left with some serious questions. Who did enter Harry's name, and how did they do it? More importantly, why did they do it? Such a move can hardly have been intended for Harry's benefit - even if his chances of winning the tournament weren't so slim, what possible use could he have for more fame or more money? I do most fervently hope that Albus Dumbledore sees this thoroughly investigated, especially in light of the scandals which have so dogged his tenure to date as Headmaster of Hogwarts._

_I also hope that Harry Potter himself remains safe, and that his life is not actually endangered by this sheer lunacy by which he is forced to compete in a potentially deadly adult competition. I trust that my readers share this sentiment._

* * *

Harry smiled as he finished reading Rita Skeeter's article, sitting between Ron and Hermione near one end of the Gryffindor table. He could have done without the extra dramatics in his life, but overall he could hardly have hoped for a more positive article. He still couldn't quite bring himself to like Skeeter, but he could no longer sustain his instinctive anger towards her. She had a job to do, that was all, and he was just thankful that it suited her purposes to cast him as a hero. He had seen the vitriol of the tabloids in the Muggle world, and knew enough to appreciate just how fortunate he was to be spared that.

As Harry finished reading the article, Ron gave him a nervous look.

"Harry," he said, looking almost sick, "I think I know what the first Task is. Do you want to know?"

Harry goggled slightly at his friend, but nodded quickly enough.

"Dragons," said Ron in a voice filled with horror. "I dunno what they'll make you do, but I'll bet there's dragons there. I saw my brother Charlie out on the grounds last night, and I followed him to see what he was doing here. I saw them Harry, I saw them - bleedin' huge dragons, and vicious too. I don't know what you should do tomorrow, but I'd probably just show up and then nick off again."

Harry was staring blankly into the distance, profoundly thankful that he wasn't actually trying to win this tournament or even really do anything much in it - dragons were a long way beyond his skills, and he knew it. He shuddered briefly, but said nothing.

Hermione opened her mouth angrily, and even raised a hand to gesture for emphasis, but then she seemed to be struck by a thought - her mouth snapped shut, and she too stared into the distance. A few seconds later she leaned over and murmured something in Harry's ear.

Harry grinned broadly and called Hermione a genius yet again, before leaning over to his other side and repeating Hermione's idea. Ron called Hermione mental yet again, but in a friendly way. Hermione didn't seem to mind.

* * *

The next morning, Harry entered the Champions' tent in excellent spirits. He greeted the other three Champions warmly, and even Krum managed a passably polite response. Fleur Delacour seemed to have decided that he, Harry, was an adorable little boy - Harry felt a flicker of annoyance at this, before realising that he could have done far worse than that. And really, it was hardly unpleasant to be hugged and kissed by Fleur Delacour. Cedric, naturally, was his usual friendly self (albeit rather nervous this morning). Harry had of course passed on the tip about dragons, so Cedric had some idea what he might be facing. Harry hadn't told Fleur or Viktor, and was in fact feeling rather guilty now that he remembered that - he had hoped to, but hadn't had a chance to tell either of them. Seeing that the four of them were alone in the tent, he tentatively asked,

"So, do you guys have any idea what we're facing?"

Krum frowned and said nothing, but Fleur winced. "I 'eard eet waz dragons. I 'ope I 'eard wrong."

Krum nodded curtly. "Ja, I heard dragons also. Good luck."

Harry relaxed. "Oh good. I heard a rumour yesterday morning and I told Cedric, but I never got the chance to tell you two."

Viktor and Fleur looked surprised, especially Viktor. "You vould help us?"

Harry nodded. "Of course - it's only fair. Even if I wanted to win this Tournament myself, I wouldn't want to do it by cheating."

Viktor grunted, nodded, and walked away to another part of the tent. Fleur hugged Harry again, but said nothing.

A few moments later, Ludo Bagman entered the tent carrying a sack.

"In this sack are small models of... Well, of what you'll be facing out there. Each of you will pull one out of the bag, and that will determine which one each of you will face. Each model has a number on it - those will determine the order in which you compete. You will all have to stay here in the tent until it is your turn. Afterwards you will be permitted to return here only after all four of you have competed, and of course after Madam Pomfrey is satisfied with your health."

He held out the sack, and one by one each of the Champions drew out a small moving dragon. Harry wasn't at all surprised when Bagman commented that his (the Hungarian Horntail) was the most vicious, or that he was to compete last. He gave a mental shrug and settled in to wait, considering and reconsidering the advice that Hermione had given him.

"Your task," said Bagman, "will be to steal a golden egg from underneath your dragon. They are all nesting mothers, though of course their actual eggs are being kept safe - the ones they're sitting on are fake, but they don't know that. Be warned - they will be vicious in protecting their eggs."

The other Champions' attempts seemed to pass in a blur, as Harry tried to ignore their progress. He was still going to have to get way too close to a real live dragon, and he didn't want anything to make that scarier than it already was.

* * *

When Harry finally entered the arena, the noise from the crowd was deafening. He gave a half-hearted wave on general principles, but his attention was on the dragon. She was huge, completely overwhelming even at this distance, and her scales and claws were formidable. He couldn't see her teeth or her flame, and he decided that he liked it better that way. Standing carefully and non-threateningly at the entrance to the arena, he bowed to the dragon. It was a slightly risky move, since she could theoretically reach him with fire in that moment, but he was sure she wouldn't - after all, he wasn't a threat to her. He straightened up again and saw her looking at him curiously. He pulled out his wand slowly and carefully, never breaking eye contact with the dragon, and then cast the largest sound-blocking charm that Hermione had been able to teach him the previous day. He felt the exertion of it - the spell was really a bit too strong for him to be casting - but it worked as he and Hermione had hoped. The sound of the crowd was abruptly cut off, both for Harry and for the dragon. She nodded to Harry in apparent gratitude, and he smiled as he pointed his wand at his own throat.

"_Sonorus!_" he muttered, before concentrating on visualising this dragon as akin to a snake.

"§Madam§," he said in a hissing voice which now effortlessly reached her across the safe distance he was maintaining, "§I mean you no harm. Can you understand me? Please nod your head if you can.§"

The enormous dragon stared intently at this tiny human, then nodded her head. Harry breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief.

"§Can you speak to me?§" he asked hopefully.

There was a long pause. The reply when it came was rumbling and guttural and quite strange to Harry's ears, but he found that by concentrating hard he could understand it perfectly.

"**§I speak. How speak you my tongue, tiny human?§**"

"§By a rare human magic, Parseltongue.§"

"**§What will you from me?§**"

"§First, to talk. The other humans have taken your eggs - you sit now on magic tricks.§"

At this the Horntail mother craned her neck to more closely examine the eggs she was protecting, and Harry took the chance to look at the judges and the audience.

The judges appeared to be having a disagreement among themselves, but the rest of the audience was watching intently. It occurred to Harry that, to those who couldn't hear anything of it, this conversation must have looked like a tense standoff. He smiled slightly.

The dragon, meanwhile, had established that the eggs were fake - not her eggs, not real eggs at all, and one was even made of gold. She raised her head and bellowed flames high into the sky. Harry waited patiently, wincing slightly at the loudness. Eventually the irate dragon looked back at him.

"**§Who has done this? Why?§**"

Harry shrugged apologetically.

"§A contest among humans. I am part of it, but never chose to be. Even now I compete - I must steal that golden egg from you, so the other humans say. I am sorry, and will leave without the egg if you will it so.§"

She stared at him for several seconds, then without warning she curled an enormous claw around the golden egg and flicked it at him. Her aim was excellent and her strength immense - only Harry's Seeker reflexes saved him from being seriously injured. He threw his torso out of the way just in time, and grabbed the egg with both hands as it passed by a moment later. The force of its impact spun his entire body around, and he gasped at the pain in his hands. He held onto the egg, however, as he turned back to the dragon and bowed once more.

"§Thank you.§"

She inclined her head slightly.

"**§Go, small human. I want my eggs.§**"

Harry bowed once more, then canceled the sound-blocking charm and walked briskly out of the arena. A moment later he remembered to cancel his Sonorus, just as a thoroughly agitated Madam Pomfrey bustled up to him and began pulling him towards the medical tent.

"Let me see your hands, Mr Potter. I've never seen anyone catch anything so heavy at such a speed."

Harry held up the golden egg and shrugged helplessly as he was pulled along. A moment later they were in the tent, however; Madam Pomfrey wasted no time in pushing Harry down onto a bed, and setting the egg on a nightstand next to his head. Before he knew what was happening, she was examining his hands.

"I'm impressed, Mr Potter - you've broken bones in both hands, and yet you held onto that egg."

She cast several spells on each of Harry's hands, and he relaxed as the pain faded from them. She then cast spells on his wrists, frowned, and then cast another spell on each wrist. Harry hadn't even noticed the pain there, but he felt it disappear. He smiled.

"You're lucky that egg didn't do a lot more damage, young man - had it hit you in the head, you'd have been dead before I could reach you. Had it hit you anywhere on your trunk, you'd have had a nasty few days in my care. As it is you're getting off very lightly - if the rest of my tests are negative, I'll be able to let you go straight away. But do try not to do such damn fool things in future, Mr Potter - fond of you as I may be, I'd prefer not to see you in my infirmary quite so frequently."

Harry grinned as she cast more diagnostic charms on him. "Sorry, Madam Pomfrey."

She sniffed. "I should think so, too!"

* * *

When Harry emerged from Madam Pomfrey's tent, he found a large crowd waiting for him - most of the audience from the stadium, in fact. The judges were first to approach him.

"Mr Potter," said Dumbledore, "would you mind telling us exactly what happened in that arena? We cannot fairly award you marks until we know what you did."

Harry grinned. "Sorry about that, Headmaster - the crowd was so loud it was making my head hurt, and I thought it was probably upsetting the dragon too, so I had to block out the noise."

"Yes, dear boy, but what did you do while we could not hear you?"

"I explained things to her," said Harry, a hint of anger in his voice. "This Task was cruel to the dragons - you should be ashamed of that, all of you. Anyway, she threw the golden egg at me once I told her I was supposed to steal it from her. Have you given her eggs back to her yet?"

Dumbledore ignored the question. "How did you explain anything to it, Harry? You were quite a distance apart, and in any case I've never heard of a dragon understanding human speech."

Harry sighed. "I have other options, Headmaster, and I know the Sonorus charm. Do you really want to discuss this here?"

Dumbledore stopped short, and shook his head. "Perhaps you're right, Harry - we can discuss this later, in private."

Harry shrugged. "Sure, whatever. Was there anything else you needed to know?"

The ancient wizard paused. "What would you have done, had the dragon not given you the golden egg? What was your plan?"

Harry very nearly laughed in the old man's face. "Then I would have walked away empty-handed, Headmaster. You forget, I never chose to compete. Why on earth would I risk my life fighting a dragon who's done me no harm, just for a competition that I never wanted any part in anyway? Honestly, I'm not that stupid."

Dumbledore flinched, but recovered quickly.

"Very well. Let us award the points, based on that version of events."

He raised his wand and his voice. "Harry Potter, you retrieved your egg in a time of less than four minutes, easily the fastest time of any Champion today. Your use of magic was slight but effective. Your diplomacy, a skill entirely unexpected in this task, was remarkable. You demonstrated exceptional reflexes and coordination in catching the egg when it was thrown at you, and left the arena without major injury. Your performance was in no way what we expected, but it was flawless nonetheless - I award you the maximum score of 10."

Harry raised and eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Madame Maxime silently raised her wand and produced a 9. Mr Crouch did likewise. Ludo Bagman grinned broadly as he gave Harry a perfect 10. "Excellent work, Harry - brilliant stuff!"

Everyone turned to stare at Igor Karkaroff, who stood defiantly with his wand hanging loosely by his side. When he finally spoke, his voice was pure contempt. "The boy is a cheat!" he declared, before conjuring a giant number 0 and striding away.


	6. Chapter Six: Enchantingly Nasty

**Chapter Six: Enchantingly Nasty**

* * *

**"The boy is a cheat!"**  
Former Death Eater accuses Boy-Who-Lived

_Gentle reader, today I watched the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. For reasons not entirely clear to your humble correspondent, Albus Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic chose to pit the young Champions against full-grown dragons in front of a large audience. And not just any old dragons either, but nesting mothers. Each Champion was ordered to steal a golden egg from his or her dragon. One can only give thanks that no one was grievously injured, and hope most fervently that Dumbledore and his pet Ministry are held to account for this flagrant disregard towards the lives of our young heroes. Someone could very well have died today, and nothing to prevent it._

_The other three Champions acquitted themselves well enough, fetching their eggs without particularly serious injury, but the story of the day was definitely Harry Potter. No one, myself included, is quite sure even now just what that young man did when faced with an angry Hungarian Horntail. We know that he cast something like a Quieting Charm, though if it was the standard charm then our most famous teenager is a great deal more powerful than anyone has realised - once that charm was cast, none of us in the audience heard anything of what happened within its boundaries. We saw Harry point his wand at his throat and cast something, probably Sonorus, and after that he seemed to talk to the dragon. What did he say? No one knows. Was he understood? Likewise, we cannot know. We do know, however, that after a time the dragon picked up the golden egg and threw it at him! That's right, my faithful readers, the dragon actually threw the egg at Harry Potter! Hogwarts' legendary matron Poppy Pomfrey later stated that Harry was lucky not to have been killed by that egg, given its weight and speed, but I credit his Quidditch-honed reflexes. Harry himself has so far chosen not to settle that particular issue._

_More interesting still is the explanation that Harry gave to Albus Dumbledore, when questioned about his performance in the Task. He claimed that he had "explained things to her," and he called the Task "cruel". He told Dumbledore that he and the other organisers of the Task "should be ashamed of that," and then flatly refused to explain his actions any further. Say what you will about our Golden Boy, he certainly has flair._

_It is truly astonishing that events as notable as the above should not even rate a headline, but such is the case today. The biggest story here, in my professional judgement, is that of the judging. The perfect 10 from Dumbledore was sadly predictable favouritism, and we can hardly be too surprised that Maxime, Crouch and Bagman followed his lead, but Igor Karkaroff's score was a revelation. Igor Karkaroff, whom you may recall as a Death Eater who escaped justice only because he named enough names to keep the Ministry happy, gave Harry a score of 0. That's right, ZERO. None. Not one. This despite the undisputed fact that Harry had retrieved his egg far sooner than any of the other Champions, and clearly used magic well beyond a normal fourth-year in so doing. Harry was also the only Champion to escape without injury, and the only Champion to leave all other eggs undamaged. By any reasonable standard he should have received the highest score - one might even wink at those perfect 10s from Dumbledore and Bagman - and yet Igor Karkaroff chose to award a score of zero. One is forced to wonder just how much hatred Karkaroff still holds for the destroyer of his Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and even whether the Ministry should consider revisiting his case while he is so conveniently available to assist them with their inquiries._

_When asked to justify his score, Karkaroff's reply was pure contempt: _"The boy is a cheat!" _Really, Karkaroff? Really? I suspect that the witches and wizards of Britain might not agree._

* * *

Just outside Little Hangleton, an utterly nondescript man appeared with a quiet "pop". No one saw him arrive, and no one saw him set off purposefully down the road that led to the long-abandoned Riddle manor.

As he was approaching the manor house, the man suddenly stopped short. He smiled broadly, then stepped back a pace and waited patiently. After a few minutes, a haggard and haunted-seeming man walked out of the manor and approached him.

"Who are you and what do you want?" demanded the newcomer.

The nondescript man laughed mockingly. "You never were the sharpest, were you Pettigrew? Invite me inside the wards, and tell our Master that his most faithful servant is here."

The haggard one, who was indeed Pettigrew, flinched at this and cowered away from the man before him. Then he gestured curtly, and the visitor stepped through the invisible barrier.

Inside the house, the visitor waited only a minute before being ushered into the presence of the one they called Master. A thin and high-pitched voice issued forth from a crib in the centre of the room.

"Ah, Crouch, my most faithful servant. What news do you bring?"

The visitor, Crouch, prostrated himself on the floor before this crib.

"My Lord. Potter still refuses to compete properly, but after the First Task he is winning despite Karkaroff giving him no points. The boy may even win the Second Task, my Lord, but he will not reach the centre of that maze in the Third Task. I'm sure of this."

"Then what do you suggest, Bartemius? I know you would never come before me without a solution."

Crouch smiled up at his Lord. "The key is the Portkey, Master - that is the means by which we defeat the wards of Hogwarts, both to remove Potter from Hogwarts and to gain entry for ourselves."

Hidden still in the depths of the crib, Voldemort made an impatient noise. Crouch hurried on.

"Once I have the Portkey, we have no real need of the Tournament. I simply get Potter alone, and Stun him and send him to the graveyard. If Wormtail can manage a simple ward on the graveyard, then you can both be there only seconds after the boy arrives. He will be unconscious but unharmed, ready for the ritual."

"You have done well, Bartemius. We will follow this new plan. Go now, and I will see you when I return to Hogwarts in glory."

Crouch stood and bowed, and then left quietly. Once outside the wards of the manor, he Apparated to a deserted moor partway to Hogwarts. There he canceled the charms on his appearance, and briefly resumed his true appearance - the distinctive face and hair of the long-dead Bartemius Crouch Junior went unseen in that lonely place, and a few seconds later he drank from a flask and began to transform hideously. Another few moments, and the grizzled old ex-Auror Alastor Moody half-turned and Apparated to the front gates of Hogwarts. A surreptitious Notice-Me-Not charm, and he returned unnoticed to his rooms - he had been gone only half an hour, and his absence had gone completely unnoticed. He smiled, the expression sitting strangely on his war-torn face.

* * *

The day after the First Task, Professor McGonagall approached Harry at dinner to tell him that the Headmaster wanted to see him. Harry shrugged carelessly and inclined his head towards the Professor in barest acknowledgement, then turned back to his meal. McGonagall glared at the back of his head for a moment, then shrugged her own shoulders and turned away - she could quite understand why the boy was so angry, and there didn't seem much point in antagonising him.

When he had finished his dinner, Harry walked to the Headmaster's office. In the office he found Dumbledore sitting thoughtfully behind the desk.

"Take a seat, Harry, take a seat. Lemon drop?"

Harry declined the sweet, but did sit on a rather comfy armchair which sat incongruously among the arcane devices.

"You asked to see me, sir?"

"I did, yes. I find myself rather concerned by your attitude towards the Triwizard Tournament, and especially by your performance in the First Task."

Harry let out his breath and relaxed into his chair.

"What's to tell, sir? I think I've been pretty clear about this competition - I didn't enter it, I didn't want to compete, and... Well, I'm not going to risk my life for no good reason."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "And the First Task?"

"Well, I'm a Parselmouth. Hermione thought the dragon might understand Parseltongue, and we wanted to find out if that was true. I told you the truth after the Task - I really did just talk to the dragon. I explained what was going on, and she got angry and threw the egg at me. I  
still don't know whether she was trying to help me, or trying to hurt me, or maybe just playing a prank on me. Anyway, the spells I cast were to shut the crowd up and to let me speak to the dragon from a distance. I cast Strepitus Lambe and Sonorus - that's all. And I meant what I said - that whole task was cruel to the dragons, and you should be ashamed."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, eyebrows raised as he regarded Harry silently for a moment before replying.

"Harry, most adult witches and wizards would struggle to cast Strepitus Lambe on such a scale. I need not ask how you discovered such an obscure spell - my compliments as always to the inestimable Miss Granger - but that feat should be far beyond any normal Fourth-year."

"It nearly was beyond me, sir. Even after days of practice to get used to it, it was really hard for me to cast it so big."

The old man inclined his head. "Very well, Harry. It is clear that we may expect great things of you."

Harry waved a hand dismissively. "If you say so, sir, but I still don't understand why you're so set on making me risk my life in this stupid tournament."

Dumbledore stilled, and his eyes grew distant. He sat silent and unmoving for perhaps thirty seconds, and when he spoke again his voice was tinged with surprise.

"That, dear Harry, is an exceptionally good question. Do you know, I cannot for the life of me think of even one good reason for that. I shall of course tell you if such a reason should come to me, but for now I am happy for you to do as you will. Do feel free to ask me for any help you may require, though you know I cannot directly help you with the Tournament itself."

Thoroughly bemused, Harry took his leave.

* * *

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Harry was met by Hermione. After he had answered her questions about Dumbledore, she changed tack.

"Harry, have you tried to figure out your egg yet?"

Harry shook his head. "Come on, Hermione - it's only been a day, the next Task isn't for ages, and I don't even care anyway."

This impeccable reasoning impressed Hermione considerably less than Harry might have hoped; less than five minutes later, he had the golden egg in the common room with him. They examined the egg closely, noting delicate patterning on its surface. Finally Harry discovered that a small piece at one end could rotate and come off entirely. The egg split open into four parts, joined only at the base, and Gryffindor common room was filled with an earsplitting wail.

It took Harry several seconds of panicked fumbling to shut the egg again and end the appalling din, and by then the entire common room was glaring at him. "Sorry!" he called, spreading his hands helplessly.

Turning to Hermione, he lowered his voice. "What in Merlin's name _was_ that?"

Hermione gave him a smug smile, then grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the staircase. "Come with me."

"Hermione, that's the boys' staircase!" he hissed.

"You would prefer the girls'?" she asked calmly. "Besides, you should know as well as I do that boys can't get up the girls' staircase. It has to be the boys'."

Harry gave a mental shrug and allowed himself to be pulled up the stairs to the first level. Hermione practically dragged him into the nearest bathroom, then shut the door behind them and cast the Locking Charm on it. Harry stared at her, but couldn't think what to say.

Hermione quickly filled a basin with water, and then submerged the egg in it. She opened the egg, still underwater, and stuck one ear under the surface. A moment later she stood up and motioned Harry over, grinning hugely.

"It's mermaids! I knew it! Out of water they just make that screaming sound, but underwater it's a song. Listen to it!"

They took turns listening, until both had memorised the song.

_Come seek us where our voices sound,_  
_We cannot sing above the ground,_  
_And while you're searching ponder this;_  
_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_  
_An hour long you'll have to look,_  
_And to recover what we took,_  
_But past an hour, the prospect's black,_  
_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back._

After a few Drying Charms, Hermione turned to Harry.

"Well, I think that's clear enough. Those were Merpeople, which means the lake. You'll need to go swimming in the lake, probably a long way underwater, and you'll have an hour to recover something of yours."

Harry grinned. "Brilliant as always, Hermione, but you've forgotten one little thing: I'm not doing it. I'll go for a swim, and maybe I'll even duck-dive a bit for the look of the thing, but I am absolutely not going to risk my life in the depths of the Lake. Besides, if I stay in the water too long then I'll miss all the fun with whatever the Weasley Twins end up doing."

Hermione wasn't quite sure what to say to that, so they exited the bathroom in silence.

As they came down the staircase, Harry suddenly laughed.

"By the way Hermione, you could have just used Aguamenti in the first place."

The brightest witch of her generation glared at him and poked her tongue out.


	7. Chapter Seven: The Yule Ball

**Chapter Seven: The Yule Ball**

Harry stared at Professor McGonagall. "You want me to dance? In front of the whole school?"

"Yes Mr Potter, I want you to dance. In front of the whole school, as well as our international guests. The Yule Ball, Mr Potter, is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament. The Champions and their partners open the dancing."

"Um..." said Harry, "this isn't part of what I have to do or I'll lose my magic, is it?"

Even with his newfound carefree approach to life, Harry shrank from the look that Professor McGonagall gave him at that. When she spoke, her voice carried an unmistakable note of command.

"You will open the dancing at the Yule Ball, Mr Potter, because the honour of your school requires it of you. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry dropped his eyes. "Yes, Professor."

"Excellent! I knew I could count on you. Now, I suggest you ask Miss Granger if she can teach you how to dance - I don't imagine that you wish to make a fool of yourself, to say nothing of embarrassing Hogwarts."

"Yes, Professor. No, Professor."

He set off to find Hermione - she, as it would turn out, both knew how to dance and was perfectly willing to teach him. In the following days Harry discovered that he thoroughly enjoyed dancing with Hermione, but the physical closeness of that dancing also made it clear to him that he really couldn't see her as more than a friend. On the plus side, though, it made a particular conversation much easier than it might otherwise have been.

Harry and Hermione were resting on chairs in the empty classroom where they'd been practicing. After a minute or so of comfortable silence, Harry turned to Hermione.

"Hermione, will you go to the Ball with me? As friends, I mean. I think I'd really enjoy spending the evening with you."

Hermione stood up, walked across the short distance and hugged Harry solemnly.

"Thank you, Harry - I appreciate the offer. I would have loved to go with you as a friend, but I already have a date."

Harry stared. "You do? Hermione, it was only announced a few days ago! Who are you going with?"

She smiled smugly. "It's a secret. You'll find out on Christmas Eve, same as everyone else."

She stuck by that, and Harry soon gave up on trying to talk her into telling him - he knew how stubborn she could be.

* * *

Harry's realisation about Hermione and romance, which he was probably wise to have not mentioned outright to Hermione herself, suddenly became very relevant the next evening when Ron cornered him in their dorm.

"Harry," he said nervously, "what do you think about Hermione?"

Harry stared blankly at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Loyal? Scary-smart? Why do you ask?"

Ron stared at his shoes for quite a while, then in a quiet voice: "Do you think she's pretty?"

Harry shrugged again. "Well yes, of course she's pretty - anyone with eyes can see that. But I don't like her that way, if that's what you mean."

"Oh. Good. That's... Good."

Harry let the silence hold, and eventually Ron found his voice again.

"Do you think she'd go to the Yule Ball with me, if I asked her?"

"Doubt it, mate - she's already got a date."

"What? Really? Who?"

"No idea - she wouldn't tell me."

"Hang on a sec, how do you even know she's got a date?"

"I asked her. I mean, I asked her to go to the Ball with me."

Ron stared at Harry, ears rapidly turning red. "You what?"

"I asked her to go to the Ball with me. As friends. She turned me down, because she already had a date for the Ball."

Ron sputtered incoherently for a few seconds, but eventually figured out that Harry hadn't actually done anything wrong or even worrying.

"So, any idea who you're going to take? Boy Who Lived and all, there must be loads of girls lining up to go with you."

Harry laughed. "Can't quite see a line forming anywhere near me. Do you see one?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Only every second girl I see, mate. Just ask one soon, or they'll all have dates already. Other than that, I reckon just about anyone would say yes to you. Wish I could say the same for me."

Harry looked thoughtful, but after a few seconds he regathered his wits with a visible effort.

"Alright, I'll ask someone tomorrow. What about you, Ron? Anyone you fancy?"

Ron looked awkward. "Not really, no. None of the girls in our year seem to like the stuff I like. I mean honestly, Lavender and Parvati bloody terrify me - with them it's all boys and fashion, and what would I know about that?"

Harry suppressed a grin. "Alright, so forget Parvati and Lavender. What about Fay?"

Ron looked blank. "Fay? Who's Fay?"

Harry grinned broadly.

"The quiet Quidditch nut in their dorm, that's who."

Long moments ticked by, as Ron stared at Harry in disbelief. Finally he collected himself, at least a bit.

"Seriously? There's been a Quidditch-mad girl in our year all along, even in Gryffindor, and I never knew?"

Harry nodded. "Yep. You should listen to Hermione more often."

The stunned look on Ron's face gradually faded into an expression of definite purpose. "I'll ask her, then."

"Good plan. Good night, Ron."

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Ron dragged Harry to two seats some distance along the Gryffindor table from where they normally sat. They sat down opposite a brown-haired girl whom Harry vaguely recognised as Fay - he also hadn't had anything to do with her himself, up until now. Almost the moment they sat down, Ron made a determined (if slightly clumsy) effort to start a conversation.

"Um... Hi, I'm Ron. Ron Weasley. You're Fay, yeah?"

The brown-haired girl nodded and smiled shyly. "Fay Dunbar, yes. Hello."

Ron seemed slightly stuck at that point, and Harry decided it was better to stay out of this conversation. Fay, for her part, seemed to be just as nervous as Ron - Harry, the only person who was truly free to observe all this, rather liked that. Eventually, Ron found his voice again.

"So, Harry tells me you like Quidditch. Can't believe it, honestly - three years here, and I never even met you?"

Fay blushed and looked down at her plate. "I do like Quidditch, yes. I... I just don't really talk very much about it, at least outside the dorm."

Ron, as he was prone to doing sometimes, responded to this with a fairly rude challenge to her love and knowledge of the game. Somewhat to his surprise, she answered him instantly and correctly. The rudeness may or may not have helped; either way, she suddenly appeared confident and competent and fiercely alive. Ron was initially taken aback by this, but a moment later his confusion was swept away by his love of Quidditch. He fired back at her, and a moment later they were arguing fiercely and amicably like old friends. Harry, Hogwarts' star seeker for two years now, was rapidly left behind - not that he was part of the conversation to begin with, of course, but now it very rapidly moved beyond his ability even to understand it. He smiled to himself and ate his breakfast in silence, thinking instead about who he should ask now that Ron was sorted.

The problem was, Harry really didn't know many girls. He'd have liked to ask Cho Chang, but she seemed remarkably friendly with Cedric Diggory lately, and he rather suspected that the two of them were already an item. He would have enjoyed going as friends with Hermione, but she had her mysterious escort already. And that, unfortunately, was really the extent of the girls in Harry's social ambit. There were the girls on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, of course, and they were all pretty enough, but they felt more like sisters to him and yet he didn't feel comfortable asking them as friends.

As Harry sat there thinking, a voice brought him back to reality.

"So 'Arry, 'av you worked out ze egg yet?"

He turned and grinned at Fleur. "Yep, I 'av."

"Vraiment?" Her eyes were wide, and she didn't seem to notice that she'd spoken in French.

He nodded. "Hermione was on at me to work on it straight away, and then she basically figured it out for me anyway. No idea what I'd do without her, honestly."

Fleur smiled indulgently. "Is she to be your date to zis Ball, zen?"

"We're just friends, if that's what you mean. I did ask her, though, but she turned me down. Apparently she's already got a date, though she won't tell me who."

Fleur's face shone with suppressed mirth. "'Oo weel you take zen, 'Arry?"

On the spur of the moment, and from a fairly definite feeling that he was being mocked, Harry twisted around to face her fully.

"Why, are you still looking?"

She laughed softly. "I do not look, 'Arry - I am looked at. Er, looked for?"

The grin dropped from Harry's face.

"I forget sometimes, that you get that almost the same as I do. Maybe I should be glad I don't have girls chasing me."

Fleur made a noise of vague agreement. After a pause, Harry went on.

"Seriously though, will you go to the Ball with me? I promise I won't be drooling all over you - you know your allure doesn't really work on me, and I understand better than anyone what it's like to have people gawking at you all the time."

She stared at him intently for a moment, then nodded decisively. "Bien. I weel go to ze Ball wiz you, 'Arry Potter. I 'ope you can dance."

He assured her that he could, again thanks to Hermione, and Fleur took her leave. She kissed his cheek as she left, and laughed to see him blush.

* * *

On the evening of the Yule Ball, a somewhat nervous (but very nicely scrubbed up) Harry Potter slipped quietly out of the castle and made his way to the Beauxbatons carriage. By some minor miracle no one had noticed him asking Fleur to the Ball, and the matter was still a mystery to everyone. Harry hadn't told Hermione because she hadn't told him who her date was - even she agreed that that was fair. He hadn't told Ron because he was worried, and not without cause, that Ron would be jealous. Granted that Ron seemed a lot happier since he'd started spending time with Fay - that relationship was already well underway - but the sheer status of Fleur as Champion, Veela and exchange student might still get under Ron's skin even now. Fleur, meanwhile, had her own social problems - as a Veela she was not widely liked among the students of Beauxbatons, and she wasn't willing to expose her nascent friendship with Harry to the tender mercies of Beauxbatons gossip any earlier than strictly necessary. And so it was that the two of them met secretly under a tree near the enormous carriage.

Harry and Fleur stopped and stared when they saw each other, each a little shocked by just how well the other looked when dressed up. They stood awkwardly for a few seconds, then Fleur smiled and relaxed.

"You look very 'andsome, 'Arry."

"Thanks, Fleur. I could say the same, except for the 'Harry' part. Plus you're more 'beautiful' than 'handsome', but I think you're also handsome anyway."

She laughed, and they linked arms and headed towards the castle.

* * *

The moment Harry and Fleur entered the castle, the Entrance Hall fell silent. Hundreds of students stared, many open-mouthed, at this most unexpected of couples. Then they were mobbed, or at least would have been if Harry hadn't become so thoroughly irritated by the endless indignities he suffered for his fame. He flicked his wand into his hand and cast a strong shield. Fleur followed his lead a split-second later, standing back to back with him and casting her own shield to complete their protection. The two shields meshed and merged, and both Harry and Fleur smiled at the warmth of the shared spell. The mob of students ran up against the shield, and the magical equivalent of a mild electric shock ran through them. Harry was surprised by this, but Fleur just smiled - her time at Beauxbatons thus far had not been easy, but that difficulty had given her certain advantages.

Harry, on a whim, tried handing the reins of his shield over to Fleur - she was already holding a shield which merged with it, after all. To his surprise, the transfer worked - he lowered his wand and the shield held, as the confused students milled around in confusion while gradually clearing a space around that hostile shield.

Harry pointed his wand at his throat, and muttered "_Sonorus._"

"Excuse me," he said calmly, amplified voice booming through the space. "Yes, it is true. I, Harry Potter, am indeed escorting Fleur Delacour to the Yule Ball. Now that we've cleared that up, could you all please not crush us to death? Thank you."

He canceled the amplification charm, and felt Fleur drop the shield. They linked arms once more and walked onward, without even exchanging a word. The crowd parted to let them pass.

Outside the doors of the Great Hall, they found a small roped-off area reserved for the Champions. Cedric was there with Cho Chang; he looked nervous but extremely happy, and an unmistakeable joy shone in Cho's exquisite face. Harry smiled to himself - he had been right about those two, and there was no way he ever wanted to get in the way of such a pairing. Viktor Krum, an unaccustomed smile on his face, was standing with a beautiful girl whom Harry took some seconds to recognise as Hermione - he had known she was pretty, but he'd never seen her dressed up before. She was gorgeous, and seemed quite at home on Krum's arm.

Of course, Cedric and Cho and Viktor and Hermione were all staring at Harry and Fleur - Harry's Sonorus charm had seen to that. As the two relative latecomers arrived, Harry caught Hermione's eye and they shared a grin - they had indeed both had good reason to keep their dates secret, although of them only Harry had caused a near-riot.

"Nice shield," said Hermione to Harry by way of greeting. "What was the offensive component?"

"Thanks," said Harry. "No idea about the offensive part, though - that was all Fleur. I was as surprised as you were."

Hermione turned to Fleur, who grinned.

"Eet 'as not always been easy for me as a Veela at Beauxbatons. I learned a number of interesting spells for my own protection. Ze spell I used 'ere was... eet was, 'ow you say? Nice. Eet does not 'arm anyone, only 'urts for a moment."

Hermione nodded. "That seems reasonable, then - from here it looked like they were about to mob you, so I suppose it was self-defence."

"Oui, c'est ça. Self-defence, as you say. I was just glad 'Arry stood by me."

Hermione grinned and shot a look at Harry. "He does that, yes."

Harry blushed, and wisely said nothing.

* * *

The Champions and their partners were the last to enter the Great Hall, entering only when everything was ready for the dancing to begin. Harry and Fleur hadn't had any chance to practice dancing together before now, but they were both good dancers and they meshed well - Harry's natural coordination and Hermione's lessons had combined to make him at least thoroughly competent with basic dancing, and Fleur was an excellent dancer. As the daughter of a senior figure in the government of Magical France, Fleur had been attending dancing lessons since she was a small child and formal balls almost as long. The two of them cut an impressive figure as they moved confidently around the dance floor, and both wore smiles as they enjoyed the moment. As other couples began to join them there, Harry and Fleur relaxed enough to begin paying attention to other people.

Viktor and Hermione seemed quite content, and moved with a certain fluid grace that even Harry hadn't expected of Hermione. Apparently Viktor's extraordinary but oddly inconsistent coordination, which applied to flying but not to walking, did apply to dancing. Cedric and Cho seemed quite comfortable on the dance floor - they seemed to be dancing without thinking about it, concentrating instead on the quiet but intense conversation they seemed to be carrying on. Ron and Fay, although not particularly good dancers, seemed to be enjoying themselves - they were keeping to a few simple movements and staying in the one small area, completely oblivious to anyone or anything outside of their little bubble. Ron looked remarkably dapper in dark green robes, his hair sleek and shiny - Molly had sent him appalling pink dress robes fifty years out of style, but Hermione had taken pity on him and Transfigured them into his current outfit. The Transfiguration, she had promised him, would last until sometime after midnight.

Some minutes into the dancing, Harry noticed Ginny's distinctive hair across the other side of the floor. She was dancing with Dean Thomas, who looked proud and delighted and more than a little bit nervous. Ginny herself seemed distracted - Harry was sure she had been watching him until he looked across at her. Oh, well - she'd get over her crush eventually, and meanwhile he was happy with Fleur even if he was starting to doubt his resistence to the Allure. He just hoped Ginny wouldn't break Dean's heart - he liked Dean.

The Weasley Twins meanwhile, dressed alike in gaudy pink Muggle-style suits, seemed to be doing some complicated four-way dance with Alicia and Angelina. As Harry looked over at them, Fred and George turned to face each other. They bowed solemnly, and grabbed each other's lapels.

A moment later, a wave of confusion swept through the hall - everyone's clothes had turned pink! Well, except for the Twins. One's suit was now pure white, and the other's was pure black - both remarkably stylish, in fact, and the two now stood out even more than they had earlier in their vivid pink. The Hall gradually went silent, as everyone turned to look at the pranksters. When they were sure they had everyone's attention, they bowed extravagantly in all directions. Then, having a well-honed sense of self-preservation, they shimmered and disappeared from view. After an uncertain pause, the Hall erupted into applause, which in turn cut off rather suddenly when everyone's clothes reverted to their original colours - the transition was quite sharp, presumably as the still-invisible Twins crossed the threshold of the Great Hall to make good their escape.

* * *

Some hours later, Harry and Fleur finally left the dance floor and headed outside for some fresh air. They were both quite physically fit, but even they had only limited stamina.

As they neared the enormous front door of the castle, Fleur murmured something as she pointed her wand at their joined hands. An odd feeling spread rapidly from Harry's hand through his entire body - it wasn't exactly unpleasant, but it wasn't really pleasant either.

"What was that?" he asked.

Fleur grinned. "You call eet... Notice-Me-Not? We call eet Remarque-Pas. You and I, we attract far too much attention. Better zis way, non?"

Harry felt a jolt of excitement at knowing they had a degree of privacy now, but squashed the feeling ruthlessly. Whatever some parts of him might want, his growing friendship with Fleur really wasn't like that, and he wasn't stupid enough to waste that warmth by becoming yet another drooling annoyance in her life. He knew how fortunate he was to have such a friendship, and was bright enough to appreciate simply walking hand in hand with her.

"'Arry," she said after a while, "'ave you really understood ze egg? You were not teasing me?"

"I wouldn't do that," he said. "I wouldn't do that to Krum, let alone to you."

She squeezed his hand affectionately. "You know, I believe you. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Or should I say, de rien."

Fleur stopped dead, and turned to face Harry. "Tu parles français? Pourquoi est-ce que tu ne m'as dit pas?"

Harry laughed. "Sorry Fleur, I have no idea what you just said. Hermione speaks French for some reason and she's taught me a few phrases, but I can't actually speak it myself. Sorry, didn't mean to get your hopes up."

Fleur blushed. "Ah, I should 'ave known. I was just so surprised to 'ear you speak French. Your pronunciation is very good, you know."

He shrugged, blushing. "I just say it how Hermione does, honestly - I don't even know how to write that down."

"Zen 'Ermione is very good."

"She is that, yes. She's brilliant - smartest witch of her generation, and it's not just me saying that."

"I believe eet."

They walked a while in silence, then Fleur stopped and turned to face Harry again.

"'Arry, can you tell me anything about ze Second Task? I could 'ave died in ze First Task - any of us could 'ave - and I'm scared about ze Second Task. Eet could be anything. I want to win zis Tournament, 'Arry, but I do not want to die. Eet is not worth zat."

Harry paused, closing his eyes as he made himself consider this. He didn't want to win the tournament himself, and he wasn't planning to actually finish the Second task anyway - he wasn't worried about helping Fleur to beat him. Plus, he really didn't want Fleur to get hurt - Hermione had said that this task would be difficult for Fleur, something about Veelas being very weak in water. Still, it wouldn't be fair to Cedric or Viktor to tell her and not them.

"Alright," he said, "I'll tell you. On one condition, though - we have to tell Cedric and Viktor too. Whichever of us gets the chance first, OK?"

She nodded. "Zat is fair, yes. I weel tell zem, if you 'aven't already before I 'ave ze chance."

They walked on in a companionable silence.

* * *

**A/N**: What Fleur says to Harry in French just means "You speak French? Why didn't you tell me?"

**A/N 2**: For those who are curious, in this version Neville took Hannah Abbott to the Yule Ball - Luna was absent (or at least didn't catch Harry's attention), and the same is true of Fleur's canon date Roger Davies. With very few exceptions, if Harry doesn't notice something then it doesn't appear in the story.


	8. Chapter Eight: The Second Task

**Chapter Eight: The Second Task**

Harry woke up early on the morning of the Second Task, nervous despite himself. Although he wasn't planning to put himself in any real danger, he was aware that he would be facing down some significant authority figures today. He had to, really. He ate an early breakfast, joined only by Fay - Ron and Hermione were absent, though Harry was fairly sure where they'd be. Since there was nothing he could do about that until later in the morning, he enjoyed the chance to chat with Fay one on one - he had come to appreciate her company in the time since the Yule Ball, for her keen intellect and brilliant sense of humour as much as for her warmth and loyalty. Of course, it was just as well that he did get along well with her - she and Ron were all but inseparable these days.

A small crowd was gathered by the Lake by the time Harry and Fay arrived at the small dock. Someone had thought to erect a grandstand, and it was gradually filling up as people trickled down from the castle. Harry and Fay chatted with students and dodged officials as the grandstand continued to fill up, until Ludo Bagman stood up on a small stage beside the dock and cast the Sonorus charm on himself.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament! This morning, each of our young Champions will need to rescue a hostage from the Merpeople in the Lake. From the sounding of my wand, they will have one hour to collect their particular hostages and return here. Points will be awarded for speed, technical skill, bravery, and style. Now, a round of applause for our four Champions!"

The crowd applauded politely, but didn't seem overly excited - it was still quite early and more than a little chilly, and there really wasn't anything interesting happening. Perhaps noticing this, Bagman went on.

"Champions, please prepare yourselves. You will have one hour from the sounding of my wand."

Harry shrugged off his robes and stood in only swimmers, already shivering in the cold. He noticed that Viktor seemed bizarrely comfortable standing half-naked in the cold, but Cedric was shivering and Fleur even more so. He cast a Warming charm on himself, then after a moment's thought he cast the same on Fleur. She glanced across in surprise, and then smiled at him.

"Thank you 'Arry - I should 'ave thought to cast zat myself."

Cedric followed Harry's lead in warming himself, though Viktor didn't bother - either he had already done so, or he just didn't need to.

When all four were clearly ready and waiting, Bagman gestured them to the edge of the dock and raised his wand.

"Three, two, one," he said, quietly but clearly, before flicking his wand to produce a sound like the cracking of an enormous whip. The Champions all dived into the water, and he turned back towards the crowd.

He paused awkwardly before casting the Sonorus once more.

"They are underway, ladies and gentlemen. Er... Please talk amongst yourselves in the meantime."

The crowd muttered and grumbled, but no one quite had the temerity to yell anything. Some looked pointedly at the flamboyantly-dressed Weasley Twins, but they just smiled enigmatically and chatted quietly as they sorted through an enormous trunk that they had for some reason brought with them.

* * *

Roughly a minute after the Champions had disappeared, Harry Potter abruptly resurfaced a few dozen metres from shore. He swam awkwardly to the dock and climbed onto it, breathing heavily. Still ignoring the crowd, he cast Drying and Warming charms on himself before hastily dressing himself. Madam Pomfrey bustled up to him, but he waved her off with a smile - much to the audience's surprise, she actually went along with it. Ludo Bagman, however, was less well-pleased. Casting the Sonorus once more, he loomed over Harry.

"Mr Potter, where is your hostage?"

Harry shrugged, and cast his own Sonorus.

"In the Lake, I suppose. The merpeople will bring him back soon, don't worry."

"You're a Triwizard Champion, Harry, and your best friend is in danger because of you. Aren't you worried?"

Harry glared at the man.

"You're wrong about a number of things, Mr Bagman. My two best friends are both down there, but they can't be in any real danger - there's no way you'd be allowed to risk the lives of non-competitors. Also, if they are in any danger then it's your fault and not mine - I never told anyone to stick my best friends at the bottom of the Lake. That's all on your head, so you should really hope they are safe."

"Don't you care about winning the Tournament, Harry?"

Harry glared some more, wishing he could get away with hexing this fool.

"No, Mr Bagman. As I have said all along, I never entered this competition and I have no interest in winning it. Besides, how come suddenly you care about this instead of my friends' lives?"

Ludo Bagman, finally recognising a lost cause, backed down.

"Very well, Mr Potter. You may take a seat."

Harry grinned and walked a few paces towards the crowd, away from Bagman.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a pretty boring Task for you. My fellow Champions may well be doing brave and heroic and probably stupid things down there, but you can't see any of that. So, to entertain you for the next hour or so, I'd like to introduce my friends the Weasley Twins. Say what you will of them, but no one has ever called them boring."

He canceled the charm, and stepped aside as the Weasley Twins appeared seemingly from nowhere and took the stage. Bagman seemed keen to challenge them, but one of the Twins silenced him by gesturing with an upturned palm. Harry wondered briefly about that, but decided it wasn't his problem. Now unimpeded, the Twins opened their enormous trunk and began their spiel.

* * *

About ten minutes later, a head broke the surface of the lake some distance from shore. Harry, who had been dividing his attention between the lake and the Twins, was the first to notice. Bracing himself, he consciously drew up his magic and poured it all into his spell.

_"Accio Fleur!"_

Fleur sped through the water towards the dock, making a noticeable bow wave - Harry hadn't realised just how powerful he was, especially when a friend was in danger. He held the spell as she drew closer, and then reached out his other hand and pulled her up onto the dock - focused as he was on Fleur, he barely noticed George Weasley standing behind him and casting a quiet Levitation charm in support.

Fleur, dripping wet and shivering violently, leaned heavily on Harry. He cast Warming and Drying charms on her, and then looked away from her and saw the small crowd of officials approaching them.

"Right," he said grimly. "Madam Pomfrey, I'm coming with Fleur. I'll turn away if you need to undress her or anything, but other than that I'm not letting her out of my sight. The rest of you, get out of the way - you did this, so you can bloody well wait until she's OK again before you start questioning her."

The rest of the officials gave way before the combined furies of Harry Potter and Madam Pomfrey, and seconds later the odd pair helped Fleur into a chair in the medical tent. Harry sat beside her, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. Madam Pomfrey began casting spells, muttering under her breath as she did so - Harry wasn't quite sure how much of that was medical information and how much was cursing the Tournament organisers, but he definitely heard fragments of both. Finally she lowered her wand and turned to Harry.

"She should be fine now, but it's lucky she reached me when she did - her lungs were half-full of water, and she's plain exhausted besides. Your Drying and Warming charms were an excellent idea, but she'd still have been dead in a matter of minutes. Albus will certainly be hearing from me - of all the irresponsible things!"

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"Les Gryndylows," said Fleur in a voice of dull horror. "Je ne pouvais pas... Gabi!"

Harry put an arm around her shoulders, and spoke as confidently as he could. "Fleur, the hostages will all be alright."

Apparently something in his tone reached her, and he felt her relax against him. They sat in silence, and eventually Harry realised that Fleur had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He closed his own eyes and rested, although not precisely sleeping.

* * *

Harry, who was in fact dozing by now, was roused by Madam Pomfrey bringing Viktor and Hermione into the tent. Viktor seemed fine, and was worried only about Hermione - Hermione, for her part, was blue with cold and shivering violently. Harry reflexively cast a Warming charm on her, and she relaxed even as Madam Pomfrey turned on him.

"Your concern does you credit, Mr Potter, but Miss Granger is under my care - kindly do not interfere with my patients."

Harry nodded silently, and watched Madam Pomfrey cast a Drying charm on Hermione before laying her down on a bed and casting charm after charm on her.

"Vill she be okay?" said Viktor nervously.

Madam Pomfrey nodded without turning around. "She'll be fine, yes. She's far too cold for my liking - apparently that stasis didn't preserve body temperature - but other than that there's nothing wrong with her. I'm more worried about you, Mr Krum, and don't think you're getting out of this tent until I'm satisfied with your health."

Viktor shrugged phlegmatically, and didn't bother to reply.

Turning to look at his surroundings for the first time, he noticed Harry and Fleur - the latter was still sound asleep.

"Vot happened?" he asked.

Harry smiled grimly. "I came out after about a minute - I wasn't about to risk my life for this stupid contest. Fleur surfaced about ten minutes later, a long way from shore and pretty much done in. I Summoned her and got her out of the water, and then Madam Pomfrey took over - apparently her lungs were full of water and she'd have been dead in a few more minutes."

Viktor shook his head in disgust. "Wahnsinn. Er, insane. Crazy."

Harry nodded emphatically, and they both turned their attention back towards Hermione and Madam Pomfrey.

* * *

When Professor McGonagall brought a cold and shivering Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang into the tent, Harry gently disentangled himself from Fleur. She woke up, so he took her hand and she followed him out of the tent.

"Headmaster," said Harry loudly, "where are the other hostages?"

Albus Dumbledore, who had been conferring with the other judges, turned to face Harry and smiled indulgently. "They are perfectly safe, Mr Potter."

Harry shook his head. "Not good enough. You let Hermione's body get really cold in there, and Cho looked about the same to me. I want Ron and Gabi out of there, now."

The old man looked thoughtful. "Lowered body temperature, you say? Hmm, that's surprising..."

Harry cut him off. "Surprising or not, you need to get them out right now."

The Headmaster stared for a moment at this furious youth, then nodded calmly. "Very well, Mr Potter."

He strode to the lake shore next to the dock, and lay down on a clear patch of grass before sticking his head into the water. After a few minutes he withdrew his head and stood up, almost absently casting charms to dry himself as he turned to Harry.

"The merpeople will bring the remaining hostages to the surface shortly."

Harry nodded. "Thank you. I'll have more to say about this once I'm sure they're OK."

Ron and Fleur's sister Gabi (Gabrielle as it turned out) reached the surface only a few minutes later, carried by a group of burly mermen. Harry immediately took charge of Ron, and a much-recovered Fleur took charge of her sister - both of the Champions quickly cast Drying and Warming charms before leading their charges to Madam Pomfrey's tent.

Madam Pomfrey herself, although predictably furious about the dangers and so on, quickly declared the remaining hostages healthy - they were still a bit cold despite the Warming charms, but she solved that by casting another such charm on each before releasing them.

* * *

Out near the dock, the Weasley Twins had finished their prepared show and were improvising to keep the crowd entertained - they felt they rather owed it to Hogwarts at this point, and it was excellent practice besides. When Harry and the other Champions appeared with their hostages, the Twins grabbed their trunk and disappeared.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Dumbledore, "the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament is at an end. It remains only for us to announce the scores for our Champions' performances. The other judges and I have conferred, and have decided as follows:

"Miss Fleur Delacour made excellent use of a Bubblehead charm, but was attacked by Grindylows and forced to turn back - she did not retrieve her hostage. We award her 25 points, for a total of 58 points so far.

"Mr Viktor Krum displayed ingenuity in his use of a partial Transfiguration, and was the first Champion to return with a hostage. We award him 47 points, for a total of 84 points.

"Mr Cedric Diggory, much like Miss Delacour, made skilful use of the Bubblehead Charm. He avoided the Grindylows, however, and was successful in retrieving his hostage. Although he returned just outside the one-hour limit, we award him 39 points, for a total of 70 points.

"Mr Harry Potter returned and left the Lake after barely a minute, having encountered no peril greater than the Lake itself; he used no magic that we could see, and made no real progress that we could see. Were this the extent of his actions, I might well agree with Professor Karkaroff's suggestion that we award him no points at all. However, he did subsequently rescue Miss Delacour with an impressive display of magic - that Summoning charm was the strongest I've seen in a good long while from a wizard of his age, and his Warming and Drying charms were timely and well-cast. Although these were not strictly part of his own performance in the Task, we award Mr Potter 15 points, for a total of 53 points.

"Mr Krum thus holds the lead with 84 points, followed by Mr Diggory with 70, Miss Delacour with 58, and Mr Potter with 53. And now, if you would, a round of applause for all our Champions!"


	9. Chapter Nine: The Return, part 1

**Chapter Nine: The Return, part 1**

* * *

Harry came out of the Second Task running dead last in the Triwizard Tournament, and with most of the school perversely angry with him for not trying hard enough at the competition that they'd been unfairly angry with him for being entered in against his will. The old Harry would have cared, but now he found he just couldn't muster any anger or pain at this latest injustice. He had Hermione and Ron, he had the Weasley Twins, and he had the other three Champions on his side also - by rescuing Fleur he had clearly established his character to the other Champions. Harry did appreciate this - he liked Cedric quite well, his previous awe in the face of international Quidditch star Viktor Krum had by now transformed into a healthy respect based on direct experience, and of course he was quite fond of Fleur. So, given all that plus the continued support of the Hogwarts staff as a whole (with the usual exceptions that no longer bothered him), Harry found himself easily able to shrug off the latest round of hostility from the student body. He knew it wasn't entirely a healthy attitude to take, but he couldn't help but feel somewhat superior to them.

Once Harry knew what the Third Task was to be, he found himself entirely unbothered by it. He'd enter the maze at least briefly, for the look of the thing if nothing else, but there was no way he would risk his life against whatever terrors had been set to defend the prize. He didn't want the prize, and he did want to live - the choice really wasn't a difficult one to make. He smiled grimly as he reflected on this, walking back to the castle after Herbology. That was his final thought; he hadn't noticed that he had lagged a little behind his classmates, and he never saw the silent red Stupefy from the empty air behind him.

* * *

Disguised and Disillusioned, the utterly nondescript man hastily Disillusioned Harry Potter's inert form before Levitating it and heading purposefully towards the once-and-future Quidditch pitch. Once there, he lowered the boy onto the grass, canceled the Disillusionment, and laid the Triwizard Cup on Harry's outflung hand. A tap of a Disillusioned wand on the Cup, and Cup and boy disappeared. The nondescript man, still Disillusioned, walked briskly but silently back to the chambers of Mad-Eye Moody. There he canceled his Disillusionment and then his disguise, before draining a flask of Polyjuice potion to resume his now-accustomed form. He smiled in satisfaction as he left his chambers.

* * *

Harry, meanwhile, was lying unconscious in a deserted graveyard. There he lay as a short pudgy figure approached with a bundle in its arms. Peter Pettigrew, visible and undisguised, carefully laid a cloth bundle on the soil near Harry's head before turning and walking briskly away. He returned some minutes later, dragging an enormous stone cauldron. This he set up nearby and filled with water, before lighting a magical fire underneath it. He then, finally, turned to Harry. He waved his wand and muttered several incantations, and Harry's limp form was thrown against a nearby headstone and bound to it with ropes. In all this, the boy never stirred - Crouch had put quite a lot of power into that Stupefy. Harry's holly-and-phoenix-feather wand lay forgotten in the grass about a metre in front of his feet.

As Pettigrew made as if to cast some spell on the grave beneath Harry's feet, he was interrupted by a petulant hissing from the cloth bundle on the grass.  
"Wake the boy, you imbecile! He must be awake for his part in the ritual, and the ritual will fail if you interrupt it to wake him."

Pettigrew cringed, and cast a pitifully weak and unfocused Innervate at Potter's boy. The spell hit its target with no obvious effect. Trembling violently, the rat-faced man concentrated desperately on his next attempt. This one worked, and the Boy Who Lived jerked awake. He struggled violently for a few seconds as he glanced around frantically to get his bearings, then stood still as he stared at his parents' betrayer. Harry had recently learned not to care overmuch about a great many things which had previously concerned and constrained him, but he had lost none of the anger he felt towards Peter Pettigrew. Even in a position of such power over the boy, Wormtail instinctively cowered away from the look that Harry gave him. It was James' face, James' face with Lily's eyes, but James had never looked so terrifying. Even Lily had never worn such an expression, for all that she had most of Hogwarts all but bowing to her by the time she left. Peter suddenly knew, without any hint of doubt, that James Potter's son would kill him in a heartbeat if given the chance.

"My patience wears thin, Wormtail."

Peter jumped as if stung, and began to scurry once more. He checked that the water in the cauldron was still boiling, then hastily added several ingredients to it. Fiery sparks flew up, seeming to dance mockingly in the air before disappearing. He waved his wand at the ground under Harry's feet and muttered something, and a trickle of dust spiraled up out of the grave.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

A wave of the wand, and the bone dust disappeared into the cauldron. The open mouth of the cauldron glowed a poisonous blue. Pettigrew now paused for a moment, trembling as he seemed to screw up his courage, before he went on.

"Flesh of the servant, w-willingly given -"

He held his left hand out over the cauldron, and a blade flashed as he cut the hand off entirely. It fell into the cauldron with a splash, and the cauldron's opening flashed bright red. Pettigrew's voice was high and tight with pain as he continued.

"- you will revive your master!"

He turned now towards Harry, holding the bloody knife. He carefully wiped the knife on his robes as he walked towards the ultimate symbol of his life's mistakes - the time for choices had long since passed, and he knew it. He reached out towards Harry with the knife.

He sank the knife deep into Harry's left shoulder, then yanked it out again. He held the knife against the wound until it was flowing with blood.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken -"

He stepped across to the cauldron, and flicked a few drops of Harry's blood into it. The potion's surface flashed a blinding white, and his face finally cracked into a smile as he stumbled backwards. His voice was unhinged elation as he continued.

"- you will resurrect your foe!"

Whimpering all the while, Pettigrew picked up the bundle of cloth and lowered it gently into the dazzling potion. Then, as he sank to the ground and curled up around his freely-bleeding wrist, the cauldron's white light abruptly vanished. Great gouts of steam came gushing out now, and the graveyard was quickly shrouded in mist.

As the mist cleared, a hideous skeletal figure became visible, standing in the cauldron.

"Wormtail," it hissed, "robe me!"

Whimpering piteously, Wormtail rushed to drape a black robe over this monstrosity's shoulders.

"My wand, you fool, my wand!"

Wormtail pulled the 13-inch yew-and-phoenix-feather wand from his robes, and handed it gingerly to his risen master. Voldemort accepted it carefully, smiling for the first time. "At last!" he hissed.

"Your arm, Wormtail!"

Wormtail held out his mutilated left arm, whimpering at the pain. Voldemort sneered.

"The other one, you halfwit!"

Wormtail hastily held out his other, intact, arm. Voldemort pressed his wand into the Dark Mark on Wormtail's forearm, and it turned deep black in an instant as Wormtail cried out in pain.

Within moments, white-masked black-robed figures began appearing and assembling in a circle around the tableau. Within a minute the circle was nearly complete, though there were clearly spaces left in it. Voldemort smiled.

"Welcome, my old friends, welcome. I, your Lord Voldemort, have returned. Welcome back to my service, all of you."

To Harry's feverish eye, a few of the brighter figures seemed to wince slightly at this. The reason became clear a moment later, as Voldemort continued.

"You will all, of course, need to explain to me why exactly you left my service to begin with. Did you really think me gone, defeated by an infant? I, Lord Voldemort, who had come closer to perfect immortality than any wizard before me? Fools! Cowards and fools!"

The figures definitely looked unhappy now. Voldemort smiled in satisfaction.

"Wormtail here, alone of all of you, has proved faithful. True that he only did this out of fear, and only when he no longer had any other option, but still he has been more faithful than any of you here. He will be rewarded."

At this point Wormtail, who had been standing unsteadily in his place in the circle, collapsed once more. Voldemort strode to him, and grabbed his mangled arm roughly.

"See how Lord Voldemort rewards those who are faithful to him!"

He touched his wand to the gushing bloody stump of Wormtail's wrist, and murmured a complex incantation. Wetly-gleaming silver flowed from his wand to cover and seal the wound, before shaping itself into a perfect hand. Wormtail's whimpering stopped abruptly, and he stared at his new hand. Gingerly, disbelievingly, he flexed the fingers - they responded perfectly to his will. He picked up a pebble from the ground beside him, and crushed it almost effortlessly between thumb and forefinger. His face split into a manic grin.

"Thank you, o Lord, thank you!" he shouted, more than a touch of delirium lingering in his tone - he had, after all, just lost quite a lot of blood. Voldemort stepped back to the middle of the circle.

"I am back, my friends, and this time we shall rule. The final obstacle, Harry Potter, is a danger no more!"

He gestured grandly to his Muggle father's headstone, where a tightly-bound Harry Potter had been quietly observing everything. A murmur swept through the Death Eaters as they realised the situation. Harry swore under his breath, but otherwise gave no reply.

Voldemort smiled, though it never came near his eyes.

"I have thought long and hard about this moment, my friends. I had thought to duel this child, to prove once and for all my dominance over him, but then I realised that I would thereby do him too much honour. That Halloween he lived by chance, by his mother's sacrifice - nothing about the the boy himself made him special then, and nothing makes him special now. He is a pathetic child, nothing more - I will simply kill him."

Voldemort now turned to Harry. "Well, boy? Any last words?"

Harry shrugged slightly, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder. "What's the point? You'll kill me just the same, no matter what I say. You'll die just the same, too, no matter what I say. You know I'll be a martyr, dont you? A symbol for the Light, even in death? You can certainly kill Harry Potter, and I'm pretty sure you're about to, but there's nothing you can do to destroy the Boy Who Lived. I always hated that name, you know, but I think I understand it now. It doesn't even have very much to do with me personally - it's just a sort of a hero, an ideal, that Wizarding Britain built up around me. It may be silly - in fact it really is silly - but it's also why you and your masked minions are all going to die in the next few months no matter what you do now. So go ahead, Tom Riddle - kill me. You're still doomed."

Harry's last words were not entirely spontaneous - he had in fact given quite a lot of thought to what he could or would or should say in scenarios quite similar to this, although he had never really believed them likely. He was happy now, though - he had done his best, and he had said what he wanted to say. Voldemort would kill him, and then Wizarding Britain would rise up in horror and tear Voldemort and his Death Eaters apart. Harry smiled serenely as Voldemort, face contorted with fury, raised his wand.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_


	10. Chapter Ten: The Return, part 2

**Chapter Ten: The Return, part 2**

* * *

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

The assembled Death Eaters all saw the Boy Who Lived shudder as the green bolt hit him, then slump on the ropes that held him to the headstone. Voldemort, who had indeed given this moment a great deal of thought in advance, stared intently at Harry Potter's slack face as he raised his wand once more.

_"Crucio!"_

The boy, or rather the body, never even twitched. Satisfied, Voldemort flicked his wand at the ropes and they fell away. The inert body of the Boy Who Lived fell in a sprawled heap on the ground, and lay still. Voldemort, ebullient now, flourished his wand at the crumpled heap at his feet.

_"Crucio!"_

Again, not a hint of a response. As if that had been a signal, suddenly figures all around the circle were copying their master.

_"Crucio!"_

_"Crucio!"_

_"Crucio!"_

And so it went. The fallen form of Harry Potter had now absorbed several dozen Cruciatus curses, and still it lay unresponsive. The Death Eaters became bored, and the spells ceased. Voldemort smiled as he turned away from the boy to address his servants.

"Now, I know that many of you - I'm looking at you Lucius - have maintained a respectable appearance in my absence. This will be useful to us, and I will not lightly throw it away. You have disappeared abruptly from your daily lives, and you must now return before your true allegiance is discovered by any who cannot be trusted. I will deal with each of you personally, later. Go!"

With a flurry of sharp detonations, the circle disappeared. Only Voldemort and Pettigrew remained, and the body of Harry Potter. The two men turned to the cauldron; what remained inside was a potion which would ultimately build Voldemort's new body to full strength.

* * *

Harry awoke suddenly to find himself lying naked on a bright white surface which somehow felt neither warm nor cold, hard nor soft. He noticed that his shoulder didn't hurt, and when he looked he saw unblemished skin as if Pettigrew had never stabbed him. He shook his head, then registered more fully that he was naked. A small mental effort, and he was wearing his usual robes. He stood up gingerly, surprised to feel perfectly healthy. As he cast his eyes around in increasing bewilderment, he saw two figures approaching swiftly from the indefinite distance. Staring at them as they drew near, he finally recognised the serene young couple - her warm red-brown hair and brilliant green eyes, his messy black hair and not-quite-cool spectacles. Harry ran forward and threw himself into their collective embrace, tears streaming freely down his cheeks as he finally felt the loving arms he had always dreamed of.

At length they drew apart, and Harry finally asked the obvious question.

"Um... Where am I? I mean, am I dead?"

James Potter smiled. "Not quite, son, not quite. Voldemort did just hit you with the Killing Curse, again, but the rules work a bit differently for you. You see, the first time around you were saved by some high-end magical protections your mother had arranged. It was all far beyond me, of course - Lily always was the smart one, in our relationship and in the whole school. Anyway, part of that was that a piece of Voldemort's soul ended up trapped behind your scar. That's why you have that connection with him, it's why you're a Parselmouth, and it's also why you're not exactly dead right now."

Harry stared at his unreasonably-young father. "Um... That's... good, I suppose?"

James grinned. "I think so, yes."

He waved at Lily, and she took over.

"Because you had two different souls in you - your own and a piece of Voldemort's - you have the option now of sending Voldemort's soul fragment on while you go back. Time has been passing more or less normally all this while, which is just as well - I've been watching your body, and you definitely didn't want to be there for all those Cruciatus curses. Death Eaters are so unimaginative, and so crude."

Harry blinked at her.

"So when I go back, what should I do?"

She smiled, and pulled him into another hug.

"Whatever you feel is right, Harry, whatever you feel is right. In the end it's all up to you - it always has been, really, but never more so than right now. Just know that I'm proud of you, we're proud of you, and we know you'll do what's right."

Harry smiled a little tearily as he stepped back.

"OK, when do I go?"

James chuckled. "That's my son, alright. They seem to have finished with the Crucios, so now's as good at time as any. Listen for the Apparation cracks, and try to wait until Voldemort and stinking Wormtail are facing away from you before you even twitch. Oh, and your body is lying on top of your wand. You may find that helpful."

Harry grinned and hugged both his parents once more, and then they literally picked him up and somehow threw him in a direction that he couldn't quite pin down.

* * *

Harry found himself lying on the ground once more, but this time it definitely hurt. His entire body was twisted and stiff, his shoulder ached appallingly (though it had at least stopped bleeding for now), and he was cold and wet as he sprawled on the short grass. With some effort, he resisted the urge to shift to a less uncomfortable position.

A few seconds later, he heard what sounded like a volley of gunshots - the Death Eaters were gone, he thought. He heard two pairs of feet shuffle away from him, and took a chance on opening his eyes and moving his head slightly so that he could see.

Voldemort and Wormtail were standing about three metres away, doing something to the cauldron from before. Harry scrabbled discreetly underneath himself and grabbed his wand, then paused for a moment to consider his options. Reaching a decision, he staggered to his feet as quietly as he could - Voldemort and Wormtail were facing away and talking, paying no attention at all to him, and he expected he would need his body to work at least a little as soon as he did anything to attract Voldemort's attention. He wasn't exactly willing to do jumping jacks to get his body moving, but he did try to shake out the stiffness a little while he could. On reflection he ducked behind the headstone, then peered over the top of it and sighted very carefully on the based of Voldemort's hood as he consciously drew up all the magic he could access - this was already an absurdly lucky second chance that he was getting, and there would be no third chance. When he felt his body practically humming with power, far more than he had ever felt before, he twitched his wand sideways slightly.

_"Lacero!"_

His aim was true, and his spell a lot more powerful than he expected - the invisible blade of magic went straight through Voldemort's hood, neck and all. The Dark Lord's body began to crumple, and Wormtail spun around surprisingly quickly. Harry was quicker still, however - he had fired off an overpowered Stunner almost before his Cutting curse hit its target, and Peter Pettigrew dropped without ever seeing the curse that hit him. Breathing heavily, Harry leaned on the headstone and glanced around for further threats. Straining to hear, he could just make out an oddly sibilant voice.

"§Kill my masster, I kill you. Kill my masster, I kill you...§"

Looking in the direction of the sound, Harry saw an enormous snake, Nagini, surprisingly inconspicuous as she slithered rapidly through the grass towards him. He consciously drew in magic again, then channeled it all into her open mouth as she reared up to strike.

_"Reducto!"_

Again Harry had underestimated the power he was channeling - Nagini's head disappeared entirely in a tremendous pulse of inky blackness, and Harry sank grey-faced to the ground in exhaustion.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore, meanwhile, was dealing with the thoroughly panicked duo of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. When they finally got past Professors Snape and McGonagall and into his office to see him, they wasted no time in insisting to him that Harry Potter had disappeared on the way back from Herbology. The Headmaster, in stark contrast to his Heads of House, greeted this news with deadly seriousness. He queried the wards of Hogwarts, and established that Harry was not on the grounds. A thought entered his mind and he checked for the presence of the Triwizard Cup, the sole exception to Hogwarts' blocking of Portkeys in or out or even internally at all. Unsurprisingly, it too was absent from the castle and grounds. That meant his Defence Professor must be an imposter - no one could have taken the Triwizard Cup from Alastor Moody and the real Mad-Eye would never have given it up willingly - but right now there were more pressing concerns. No time to call for reinforcements, either - he would have to rescue the boy alone somehow. He turned to Hermione and Ron.

"Ron, go to the Ministry - use my fireplace, and go straight to Amelia Bones' office. Tell her I said I need a dozen of her best Aurors, and Amelia herself, in my office here when I return in a few minutes' time. Tell her the fate of Magical Britain hangs in the balance."

The old man turned to Hermione.

"Hermione, go fetch these professors: Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout. I know you don't trust Professor Snape, but I do and we need him - fetch him. Avoid Professor Moody at all costs, however - I believe he is not the man we think him to be, and we cannot take chances at present. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, practically bouncing on her toes in nervous excitement. "Yes, Headmaster!"

Dumbledore smiled briefly. "Good. Go, both of you! I'll be back as soon as I can."

He disappeared with a quiet sound, barely more than a click, and Ron and Hermione ran to follow his orders - Ron through the fireplace, and Hermione into the school proper.

* * *

Dumbledore appeared a hundred metres from where the Cup lay, and wondered briefly why the place seemed deserted. Where was Harry? Where were the Death Eaters? For that matter, where was Voldemort himself if this was a resurrection as he feared? The old man silently Disillusioned himself, then crept forward to investigate.

He saw an enormous stone cauldron, large enough to hold a man - resurrection ritual indeed, then. Beside the cauldron he saw two piles of black robes, and noted that the grass was covered with blood. Still on high alert, he pointed his invisible wand at the piles of robes.

_"Homenum Revelio,"_ he murmured. One of the piles glowed faintly golden to his sight, while the other gave no response. He moved closer, still watching carefully all around himself for threats, and levitated the robes which apparently contained a live human. His eyebrows rose a little as a fold of fabric fell away to reveal the slack face of Peter Pettigrew. Alas for the choices that poor boy had made, but the course was well and truly set by now - there was nothing more anyone could do to save young Peter from himself. With a wave of his wand, Albus lowered the unconscious traitor to the ground once more. Another wave of his wand, and the second bundle of robes rose in the air. Well, that was the intention - in fact Albus' silent Levitation charm lifted only a severed hood. He saw the unmistakeable misshapen face of the monster which had once been Tom Riddle, and stood and stared. Who in Merlin's name had the power to simply behead the Dark Lord? Dumbledore didn't know whether to feel frightened that such a power existed, or reassured that it seemed to be his ally. He looked further in the foggy graveyard, and saw a figure sitting propped against a nearby headstone. Moving closer, he recognised the figure as Harry Potter.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked nervously, "are you alright?"

Harry didn't even twitch.

_"Homenum Revelio!"_

Whether because Dumbledore had overpowered the spell or because of the tremendous power that had flowed through Harry so recently, the graveyard was suddenly brightly lit by a glowing nimbus around the boy. Dumbledore's mouth fell open, and he took an involuntary half-step backwards. He sank gently to the ground, and concentrated on breathing deeply and evenly for a time. When he was calm once more, he cast a flurry of diagnostic charms - Harry was mostly healthy apart from magical exhaustion and a deep stab wound in his left shoulder, and somehow, incredibly, the Horcrux behind his scar was simply gone.


	11. Chapter Eleven: The Return, part 3

**Chapter Eleven: The Return, part 3**

Albus Dumbledore stared blankly at Harry Potter's inert form for perhaps half a minute, thinking furiously. All of his many plans, the centre and purpose of his life for many years now, were suddenly obsolete. There were profound implications to this new situation, and those implications would most likely transform Wizarding Britain in some way, but he reminded himself that those thoughts could safely be left for later - for now, he had a situation to deal with. He made a complete turn on the spot, muttering under his breath as his wand danced and flickered through the air, and incidentally securing Pettigrew with a number of charms to be safe, before relaxing somewhat. Finally, a faint smile appeared on his face. He bent down and plucked a weed from the grave of Tom Riddle senior, and pointed his wand at it without even rising from his crouched position.

"_Portus._" he murmured, and the weed glowed briefly. He laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, and the two of them disappeared abruptly from the graveyard.

* * *

The ancient wizard and his young protegé appeared suddenly in the infirmary at Hogwarts, startling Madam Pomfrey somewhat. She automatically levitated Harry to the nearest empty bed and began casting diagnostic charms on him, even as she addressed the Headmaster.

"What happened, Albus?"

"I'm afraid I know very little as yet, Poppy. His friends reported him missing from Hogwarts, and I found him like this in the graveyard at Little Hangleton. My own tests suggest that he is in excellent health aside from magical exhaustion and that rather nasty wound in his shoulder, but of course I yield to your expertise in such matters. While I would prefer not to speak just yet about the circumstances of Mr Potter's morning, you should know that Voldemort was involved - this is no random battle wound, and there may well be wounds that I did not see. I trust you understand the need for discretion on this point."

Poppy Pomfrey nodded absently, focused on her patient as her wand continued to dance. She had healed Harry's shoulder, and was double-checking for any other damage beyond the magical exhaustion itself. She didn't even look up as she addressed her employer once more, disapproval clear in her voice.

"You'll want him awake, won't you Albus?"

"I'm afraid so, Poppy. The events of the morning will determine the future of Magical Britain for quite some time, and Mr Potter is our only witness to those events."

Poppy, who had known Albus a very long time, looked unconvinced as she finally turned from her patient to look at Dumbledore directly.

"I swear to you, Poppy, that I do not know what happened this morning. I can only say that we appear to have acquired a tremendously powerful ally in our fight against the darkness, and that I would very much like to know just who that ally might be."

Pomfrey nodded curtly. "Very well. Do what you must, Albus - I suppose that's what you always do, isn't it?"

Albus nodded as he strode towards the door. "I shall return shortly for Harry, but for now we can let him sleep."

* * *

The Headmaster arrived at his office to find it quite crowded - Hermione had succeeded in fetching the Heads of House, and Ron had likewise succeeded in fetching Amelia Bones and a contingent of Aurors. Albus noted that she had brought a selection of her best Aurors - of course he recognised them all - and he nodded approvingly as he strode to his desk.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice. The situation is now far less dire than I feared when I sent my summons - in fact we should be in no danger at all - but I would ask that we proceed with caution nonetheless. In a moment I shall take you to a graveyard at Little Hangleton, where I found Harry Potter wounded, unconscious and magically exhausted. I trust by now you are all aware of his disappearance. Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, Harry is safe now - he is currently sleeping under Madam Pomfrey's care, suffering nothing worse than a modest case of magical exhaustion. Tell Madam Pomfrey I said you may sit with him, but I implore you not to wake him just yet - he needs what little rest he can get, before we must wake him to ask our questions."

Hermione and Ron all but ran from the room, desperate to reach the infirmary and see for themselves that their friend was still alive and well. Dumbledore smiled indulgently as he watched them go, then he turned to his Heads of House.

"Severus, Minerva, Filius, Pomona, please proceed with all speed and caution to the Defence Professor's quarters and apprehend the man. I trust I do not need to tell you how dangerous he is, whoever he really is. Severus, I'll be needing some Veritaserum shortly - please leave it ready in your office when you can, and I shall collect it when required."

"Of course, Headmaster."

The Heads of House left quietly, each wondering just what was going on. Behind them, with a thought and a momentary flicker of will, Dumbledore sealed the door to his office.

"Now," he said, "Amelia, the graveyard is the scene of a crime about which I know very little as yet. I am relying on you and your Aurors to discover as much as possible from the evidence at the scene, before we trample it overmuch."

* * *

Amelia Bones nodded, and mere moments later they were all whisked away by a hastily-charmed Portkey.

The crowd of powerful adults appeared in the graveyard, Amelia and her Aurors rapidly spreading out to examine the area.

"Blood all over the place," noted Auror Shacklebolt, beginning to cast diagnostics on it. "Mostly from one person, though there are traces from someone else."

"Pettigrew?" said Amelia in disbelief. "Peter Pettigrew? Well, he has some explaining to do when he wakes up."

A pair of Aurors moved forward and secured the man, though they had little enough to do after Dumbledore's efforts. Amelia moved on, and then stopped abruptly. She liked to think of herself as imperturbable, and she certainly had a well-earned reputation for competence, but on this occasion she found herself truly astonished.

"Voldemort?"

Every eye turned to her, as she turned to Dumbledore.

"Did you know about this, old man?"

The old man smiled genially. "Of course I did, Amelia. But answer me this: would you have believed me, had I simply told you in advance?"

She snorted and turned back to her find.

"To be clear," she said in a voice tinged with disbelief, "this is the head and the body of Voldemort? Separately? Who the hell has that kind of power?"

Albus shrugged, having given some thought to that question himself.

"Technically, any one of us has power enough for that - even a simple Cutting Charm would do it, if cast strongly enough by a competent adult. But you are rather assuming, Director Bones, that this body is that of a resurrected Lord Voldemort. I saw him dead in 1981, as did you. More likely, this is nothing more than a crude simulacrum of some sort, created by Pettigrew in an attempt to gain control of the former Death Eaters. I admit I'd not have thought him capable of such a thing, but by the very fact that he's alive we know that he's managed to fool us all in any case."

Amelia nodded thoughtfully, staring intently at the man she had known for so long now. "True enough."

"Dead snake over here," said Auror Scrimgeour. "Big one. Head's missing, and there aren't even any large pieces lying around - just a bit of a hole and some disturbed earth. You want my guess, that was one hell of a Blaster."

Dumbledore nodded. "Probably Pettigrew, or more likely a former Death Eater that he managed to bring here."

Amelia sent most of the Aurors back to the Ministry after that, leaving only Kingsley Shacklebolt with herself and Albus as they took Pettigrew and Voldemort's body (Transfigured into a bone) back to Hogwarts.

* * *

They appeared back in the Headmaster's office, and immediately secured Pettigrew to a chair. As the man was still unconscious, Dumbledore cast further restraining charms and a sound-deadening shield around the man, and then they simply ignored him. Only then did he really take note of the four Heads of House waiting for him.

"What news?" he asked quietly.

Minerva looked disgusted. "Gone - totally cleared out before we got there."

Flitwick raised a hand. "He left a trunk behind, and in a secret compartment we found the real Alastor Moody. He's in rather poor condition and his eye and leg are gone, but Poppy assures us that he will make a full recovery in time."

Albus winced. "Poor Alastor. He will be extremely angry with himself."

There was a general murmur of agreement - they did all know Moody - and then Albus dismissed his Heads of House once more and they left the room. Albus tapped the desk with his wand, and the walls of his office glowed for a moment. He turned to Amelia, a slight smile on his ancient face.

Amelia met his gaze sternly. "Alright Albus," she said, "now tell me the truth."

Albus nodded calmly. "You knew all along, of course, that I was leading your Aurors to a false conclusion - I knew you would. Thank you for playing along, Amelia."

She nodded. He sighed, allowing himself to feel a little of the tiredness he habitually masked.

"Very well. I believe this is indeed the resurrected body of Tom Riddle, the self-styled Lord Voldemort. I knew already that he wasn't entirely dead - in the past few years he has made several attempts to restore himself, only to be foiled in each instance by Harry Potter."

Amelia's eyebrows shot up. "Harry Potter? What power does a child my Susan's age have to fight this monster?"

He grimaced. "First and foremost, he has an uncanny ability to be in exactly the wrong place at the right time. Second, he has all the courage and nobility of a true Gryffindor - in such a situation, no matter how badly outmatched, he will always stand and fight. Third, he has rather more power than we might expect for his age - I don't know precisely, but I suspect that at 14 he already has more power than an average adult wizard. And finally, it must be noted, he has thus far been aided by an extraordinary run of luck whenever he has found himself in such a situation."

Amelia nodded slowly. "OK, so you believe this really is Voldemort because you already knew he was coming back. Fair enough, and thank you for finally telling me. Now, in your opinion, what actually happened this morning?"

Albus paused for several seconds before replying. "I did initially suspect the interference of some unknown ally to our cause, but no longer. While I do not know the details, I believe it most probable that Harry Potter himself decapitated Lord Voldemort and killed his snake. And yes, that snake was Voldemort's familiar - I believe her name was Nagini, though I would prefer not to share my sources at this time."

Amelia Bones glared at this, but was distracted by her interest in the story itself. "So why was Potter abducted? What was done to him, and why?"

The old man leaned against his desk, thinking rapidly. He would need to make new plans, of course, but it was already becoming clear that Harry Potter would play an active role - the young man had earned that. That being the case, and given Harry's current attitude in relation to the Tournament, a show of faith would be an excellent idea. He should have Harry present for the real discussion. He nodded decisively as he straightened.

"If you don't mind, I shall go and fetch Mr Potter - I believe he deserves to be here for this, and in any case we need his story. Pettigrew should sleep until we're ready for him."

A few minutes and a Pepper-Up Potion later, Albus returned with Harry.

Once Harry was settled on a comfortable chair, Dumbledore addressed everyone in the room.

"I believe that the Second Wizarding War is upon us, and that only by Mr Potter's timely intervention are we spared a far bloodier war than the first. I believe that the four of us here must take complete responsibility for ending the war before it can properly begin. I have extremely sensitive information to share with you, and I suspect the same is true of Harry - first, however, we must swear to secrecy. I cannot stress enough the dire consequences if this information were to be released too soon."

Harry frowned. "Does that mean I won't even be able to tell Ron and Hermione?"

The old man nodded. "I'm afraid so - we simply cannot take the risk. Already we take a substantial risk by including you, because you lack our Occlumency shields - you are here only because you have so richly earned it, and because quite frankly we may need you. Tell your friends that I am giving you training for when you must face Voldemort. I shall in truth give you such training if you desire it, though you and I know the reasons to be somewhat different."

Harry nodded sadly, but said nothing.

"Fear not," said Dumbledore cheerfully, "if secrecy is maintained, then this should be finished quite soon. I should like to think that I can learn to move past my mistakes, and it is now quite clear that in the last war I was not half so unflinchingly practical as I should have been."

Amelia and Kingsley both snorted - they remembered the First War.

A moment later, Amelia gave Albus a challenging look. "You will swear also, Albus. And you will swear first."

He nodded. "Indeed. Are we agreed?"

They were agreed, and one by one they swore to abide by their conspiracy - to never reveal any of the information, including the existence of the conspiracy, without the direct permission of at least one (but preferably two or all three) of the other conspirators. Only after this could the meeting begin in earnest.

* * *

"Mr Potter," said Dumbledore, "you have the floor. What exactly happened this morning?"

Harry told the story, calmly and honestly; the adults didn't interrupt him at all. Finally, when he had finished, he asked what seemed like the obvious question.

"I had a piece of Voldemort's soul behind my scar, which must have been from the first time he tried to kill me. He was supposed to have died then, but he came back - I expect you can't completely die if part of your soul is stuck here. Assuming I'm right about this, are we sure there are no more pieces of his soul scattered around? Bad enough that I had to kill him - I want him to stay dead this time."

Dumbledore beamed. "Excellent deduction, Harry - I was right to include you here."

The smile abruptly fell from Dumbledore's face, and he rested his elbows on his desk and his jaw on his hands before he continued.

"Those soul fragments are called Horcruxes, and usually they are created deliberately by a witch or wizard who has passed far beyond any chance or even desire for redemption. I shall not go into detail - obviously none here would ever think to try such a thing - but I will say that the ritual centres on a cold-blooded murder. The Horcrux behind your scar, Harry, was to my knowledge the only one ever created by accident. I suspect this was due to the rebounding Killing Curse, but I have no way of knowing - never before or since has the Killing Curse struck and failed.  
"Now, I have been researching this topic since the end of your first year here at Hogwarts - I immediately recognised that diary for what it was, even though you had by then destroyed it. Knowing Tom as I did, I knew he would never have been satisfied to make just one - I have not yet learned the true number or identity of his Horcruxes, however. All I can say for certain is that, however many there once were, there are now two fewer - the diary and your scar, of course."

Amelia interjected, "What do you suspect, Albus?"

He sighed. "From all I've found, he seems to have had a fascination with relics of the Founders. I believe there is a golden cup which once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, though I do not know its present whereabouts. Likewise a golden locket forged by Salazar Slytherin, and possibly a diadem wrought by Rowena Ravenclaw."

"Seven," said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep rich voice.

"Excuse me?" said Dumbledore, turning to him.

"Seven. He created seven Horcruxes."

"What makes you say that?"

Kingsley smiled. "We know of two for certain, and another three most likely. That makes five, six including the piece within his own body but five again if we don't count the accidental Horcrux behind Harry's scar. Five is alchemically unstable - he would never have chosen to split his soul into five parts - but seven? Seven is stable. So he meant to make six - if you're right about those three, Headmaster, and the diary, then we have two more Horcruxes to discover."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "That makes sense - good thinking, Kingsley. Does anyone have any ideas as to what either of those objects might be?"

When no answer came, Dumbledore continued. "I believe that Tom's snake, Nagini, may have been a Horcrux. Harry has had visions, seeing through Tom's eyes, and in them Tom displays an exceptional fondness and protectiveness towards the snake - all the more so because he shows no true affection towards anything or anyone else besides himself."

"Well," said Kingsley with a smile, "that would make our job easier if you're right, Headmaster. Harry, when you killed that snake, did you see any sort of energy release or similar?"

Harry spread his hands helplessly. "Look, I passed out a moment later - I really wasn't paying that much attention. Um... I do think there was some sort of shadow or something, though, just for a moment. I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me."

The adults all smiled, and Albus raised a hand. "Excuse me - I'll be back in a moment."

He disappeared in a flash of red-gold fire, but reappeared only seconds later - now he was clutching Fawkes' tail feathers in one hand and Nagini's body in the other. The latter he tossed down onto the floor of his office, heedless of the blood. He cast a complex charm, muttering at length under his breath, and an ugly penumbra appeared around the snake.

Albus smiled. "Correct - Nagini here was a Horcrux, until Harry destroyed her. Harry, that means you have now destroyed two Horcruxes - three if we count the one behind your scar. You have a tremendous future ahead of you, of course, but even if that weren't the case, this alone stands as a lifetime achievement that to my knowledge no one else has ever managed. You should feel proud, young man."

Harry smiled, thinking that he felt a lot less embarrassed than he would have at the start of the year. Instead of embarrassment, he found he truly did feel pride. "Thank you, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded. "Now, Harry, you seem to be drooping rapidly - you were magically exhausted when I brought you back, and Pepper-Up can only do so much. I shall take you to the infirmary in a moment - further planning can wait until after the Third Task tomorrow. We will interrogate Pettigrew now, though, if you don't mind - there's no particular need for you to take part in that, and I'm happy to show you my memories if a summary is for some reason inadequate."

Harry nodded peaceably, eyelids already drooping, and Dumbledore disappeared with him in another flash of fire.

* * *

When Albus returned to his office a few minutes later, having also taken the time to collect Veritaserum from Snape, he found Amelia and Kingsley in quiet conversation.

"Any new ideas?" he asked.

"None worth mentioning," said Amelia. "Our course of action is quite clear, I would say - pump Pettigrew full of Veritaserum and ask him a lot of questions. Oh, and have a Dictaquill running as we do."

"True enough," said the Headmaster. "Shall we?"

Amelia set up the quill, and they sat around Pettigrew. As an added precaution, Dumbledore sealed his office completely - aside from phoenixes, absolutely nothing could enter or leave his office while it was thus sealed. Even house-elves were blocked.

With a twitch of his wand, Albus woke Pettigrew. The small man twitched violently as he awoke, and began to babble even as he was taking in the situation around him.

"Headmaster! You saved me! I've been held hostage by the Dark Lord for so long, I'd given up all hope of rescue!"

Dumbledore sighed. "Are you willing to take Veritaserum, so that we can learn more about your suffering at the hands of Voldemort?"

"What? I'm the victim here - why would I take Veritaserum?"

Dumbledore sighed again and wordlessly Stunned the man, before tipping his head back and carefully placing three drops of Veritaserum on the lolling tongue. Then he sat back, and woke the man again.

This time Pettigrew's panic faded quickly into the complaisant torpor characteristically induced by Veritaserum. He smiled vaguely as he looked at Albus Dumbledore sitting in front of him, but said nothing.

"What is your name?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Peter Pettigrew."

Are you a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

"Did you betray James and Lily Potter?"

"Yes."

"Did you frame Sirius Black?"

"Yes."

"What did you do this morning?"

"I returned the Dark Lord to a proper body. He's my only hope, now that my cover as Scabbers is useless."

"What was Harry Potter's role in that?"

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken. The Dark Lord insisted on Potter's blood, wouldn't accept anything else."

"How did you get Harry Potter to the graveyard?"

"Barty Crouch - that's Barty Crouch Jr - was Polyjuiced as Mad-Eye Moody. After you turned the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey that could go through the Hogwarts wards, he added the graveyard as a destination. Then he Stunned the boy, kidnapped him, and sent him out with the Portkey."

"Who answered Voldemort's summons this morning, and who failed to do so?"

"Avery. The Carrow twins. Crabbe. Gibbon. Goyle. Jugson. Malfoy. Nott. Rowle. Travers. McNair. Yaxley. Crouch couldn't come because of his cover. Snape will say the same. Karkaroff has lost his nerve. The rest are in Azkaban."

"What do you know about Horcruxes?"

"I've never heard the word."

"Did you ever see Voldemort's diary, the one that he gave to Malfoy?"

"Yes. Terrifying thing."

"Did you ever see another object that felt like that? Maybe one that Voldemort was very protective of?"

"There was a gold cup - pretty thing, but felt like madness. The Dark Lord gave it to Bellatrix, to put in her vault at Gringott's."

"Is it there now?"

"I think so."

"Any other objects like that?"

"There was a ring. Ugly thing to start with, and felt like that. Don't know where it is now."

"Anything else?"

"Well, that snake has always scared me. I figured it was just the rat thing, but maybe there is something wrong with it."

Dumbledore paused. "Where have you and Voldemort been living?"

"The old Riddle house. It's dark and nasty, but it's safe. The Dark Lord killed the Muggle caretaker ages ago, and still no one comes there."

"Do you know anything about a golden locket, possibly forged by Salazar Slytherin?"

"No."

"Do you know anything about a headpiece of some sort that once had something to do with Rowena Ravenclaw?"

"No."

Dumbledore glanced at Amelia and Kingsley, to see whether either of them had further questions for the wretch. They shook their heads slightly.

Dumbledore twitched his wand, and Pettigrew lapsed into unconsciousness once more.

"We'll take him," said Amelia. "This was a legitimate interrogation as far as the DMLE is concerned - Veritaserum from a trusted source administered by the head of the Wizengamot, questioning by the same, and all in the presence of myself and a senior Auror with an official Dictaquill running. I can keep this quiet for perhaps a week, but it will get out eventually and it will be front-page news when it does. We need to act quickly. Can we count on Fawkes' assistance?"

The beautiful red-gold bird, who usually chose to fade into the background, assented melodiously. Amelia smiled. "Thank you, Fawkes."

"The first thing we need to do," said Kingsley, "is get these Death Eaters into custody before they realise what's happening."

"True," said Amelia, "but we can't do that without warrants. Pettigrew is a special case there."

Albus smiled. "I am Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, don't forget, and that does come with certain rarely-used powers. I cannot legally send anyone to Azkaban on my own authority alone, but I can issue warrants for you to arrest them and keep them in holding cells at the Ministry. We have a chance, just one, to break the stranglehold that Lucius Malfoy and his ilk hold on the Ministry of Magic. Give me a moment..."

He waved his wand at a sheet of parchment, and fancy formal lettering appeared on it. Looking more closely, the others could see a generic arrest warrant for being an accessory to the kidnapping of Harry Potter - that was sufficient to justify arresting them, and yet it was a charge which should stick in all cases. He waved his wand again, and another dozen copies appeared. Further twitches of his wand made the sheets shuffle around in mid-air as the names were filled in. When this was done, he picked up a normal quill and signed each warrant by hand. That done, he handed the stack to Amelia Bones. She looked through them rapidly, then nodded in satisfaction.

"Excellent. As far as I'm concerned, these thirteen individuals are now subject to arrest on sight. I would not object if I happened to find them Stunned and tied up in your custody, though I would have to ask awkward questions if they were obviously injured."

Dumbledore nodded, smiling. "Understood. I shall contact you when I have news."


	12. Chapter Twelve: Roundup

**Chapter Twelve: Roundup**

* * *

Harry awoke to find the Headmaster sitting by his bedside, apparently deep in thought. Still, the old man looked across promptly enough at the first sign of movement from Harry.

"Good morning, Harry. How do you feel?"

"Surprisingly good, all things considered. How long was I asleep?"

"Just overnight - I put you to bed late afternoon yesterday, and it's early morning now."

"What did I miss?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Mr Pettigrew was quite helpful. I believe that we now know all of Tom's Horcruxes, although we do not yet know where some of them are."

Harry stared intently at Dumbledore. "What are they all? What do we know, and what are we planning to do about it?"

Dumbledore glanced around at the privacy curtain surrounding them, then muttered under his breath for a moment as he waved his wand. "None may overhear us now - understand, Mr Potter, that these matters are deadly secret."

"Of course, Headmaster."

The old man relaxed, and settled back in the comfortable armchair that he had no doubt conjured for himself.

"Now, Riddle's Horcruxes. We believe there were seven horcruxes - it should have been six Horcruxes plus the fragment that remained in his body, but he created the Horcrux in your scar quite by accident. Thus, seven Horcruxes and one disembodied fragment. We know already of the diary, your scar, and Nagini - those three have all been destroyed by your hand, one way or another. From my research we know also of a diadem associated with Rowena Ravenclaw, a locket associated with Salazar Slytherin, and a golden cup which once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. I believe that each of those items may in fact have been created by its namesake, but on that point I cannot be certain. I am quite certain, however, that those three artefacts exist and that they are Horcruxes. I have as yet no idea as to their whereabouts.  
"Recall that I said there were seven Horcruxes, or so we believe - Kingsley pointed out the alchemical reasons for that. Three are extinct by your hand, and three we know from my researches - that leaves but one, excepting only the fragment which lately animated the body that you slew yesterday. In fact, I believe that ghastly homunculus briefly constituted an eighth Horcrux. Being in a mortal body, however, it perished just as Nagini did - living Horcruxes seem to require only death in order to be destroyed, rather than the more extreme violation required for inanimate Horcruxes. In any case, that fragment is no longer of any concern to us. So, besides those which I have mentioned, we expected to find only one further Horcrux. Mr Pettigrew helpfully confirmed a number of other Horcruxes and identified the final one - it is a ring, although I'm afraid I know no more of it at present."

Harry nodded slowly. "Thank you, Headmaster. Do we know where these things are?"

"One only, alas - the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff, we believe, lies in the Lestrange vault at Gringotts. We need only notify the goblins of its presence, and they will destroy it of their own volition - in fact, I believe the mere presence of that abomination may be sufficient to see the vault closed and its contents confiscated by the goblins. They take Horcruxes extremely seriously."

Harry nodded. "OK, so how do we find the others?"

"Hard work and good fortune, in that order," said Dumbledore, looking suddenly quite tired.

Harry twitched violently at this, eyes going very wide. "Wait a moment, Professor! Dobby!"

With a small "crack", the extraordinary house elf appeared. He was dressed in smart Hogwarts livery and grinned as broadly as ever to see Harry, but to Harry he seemed a great deal less vibrant now.

"What can Dobby be doing for Harry Potter Sir?" said Dobby eagerly.

Harry paused. "Before that, Dobby, tell me honestly - are you OK?"

Dobby burst into tears, and began hitting himself in the head with both fists. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! House elfs must never be unhappy, not while they have work! Bad Dobby! Bad elf!"

Dobby, stop!" Harry grabbed the tiny hands and physically prevented Dobby from hurting himself any further.

"Dobby, don't hurt yourself. Please just tell me what's wrong, and I promise I'll try to fix it."

Dobby burst into tears again, but this time without hitting himself. "Harry Potter Sir is a great wizard, a truly great wizard, oh yes! Caring about a poor useless house elf like Dobby!"

Harry cut him off. "Dobby, tell me what's wrong."

Dobby looked down at the floor. "Dobby is not being bonded to Hogwarts like the other elfs - Dobby can't, not now. Dobby is being paid, and Dobby is happy, but Hogwarts has many elfs, and not enough work for all, and not enough magic for an elf who is not even bonded to her. Dobby grows weak without powerful magic. Bad masters were cruel to Dobby, oh yes, but bad masters had strong magic."

Harry stared at the elf, appalled. This was the result of his noble intentions in freeing Dobby from the Malfoys? He felt sick.

"Dobby, I am so sorry. What can I do to help?"

Dobby stared at Harry, face lit fleetingly by an ear-to-ear smile. Then he looked away hastily. When he spoke, his voice was small and uncertain.

"Harry Potter Sir could be bonding Dobby?"

Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded slightly. He looked back at Dobby.

"What do I need to do, Dobby?"

Dobby stared at him, practically vibrating with joy. "Really? Harry Potter Sir would truly bond Dobby?"

"Yes, Dobby. Now, what do I need to do?"

Dobby grabbed Harry's hand. "Does Harry Potter Sir want Dobby to be his house elf?"

Harry looked puzzled. "Of course I do."

He felt a great heat in his arm, unfathomably hot and yet somehow still comfortable and even comforting, and looked down to see his arm and Dobby's entire body glowing brilliant white. He felt the drain on his core, as if he were casting a series of powerful spells, but it felt good - he always had enjoyed magical exertion, if only he had allowed himself to notice.

"Headmaster," he said hesitantly, "my magic feels different. Was there some sort of... I don't know, block, or something, on it before?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Not to my knowledge, no. Such things are possible, but they're only used in the most extreme circumstances. Any such block on your magic would in any case have been noticed and corrected by Madam Pomfrey well before now. It is my belief that you had a mental block only - that as a result of your appalling childhood, you had suppressed a significant portion of your true magical potential. I do wish to apologise most deeply for that, but this is not the time. As to your magic, I believe that you overcame that mental block in the graveyard yesterday. You said that you deliberately drew up as much magic as you could, far more than you had ever held before. I believe that, in that moment, for the very first time you truly wished to use your full potential. Hence you accepted at least the possibility of that power, and the mental barrier fell. I believe this because your school results, while quite respectable, are not consistent with a fourth-year casting such powerful spells. I cannot judge the strength of your first two spells, other than to note that neither of them would normally be possible for any but the best fourth-year student, but I can judge the strength of the spell with which you killed Nagini. Even after casting the spells you cast on Tom and on Pettigrew, you cast your Reducto upon Nagini so strongly that her head completely disappeared. While not terribly far out of the ordinary for an adult wizard, such power is quite unusual for one of your age. The strength of your bonding with Dobby here is a result of that, though it should settle down in a few minutes."

Harry looked at Dobby, who was still holding his hand and glowing (though not as brightly as before). The elf wore an expression of utmost bliss, and seemed entirely oblivious to his surroundings. Harry smiled.

Eventually the glow faded, and Dobby let go of Harry's hand. "_Master_ Harry Potter Sir," he said smugly. "What can Dobby do for _Master_ Harry Potter Sir?"

Harry smiled slightly. "Well, that's why I called you. Dobby, do you know what a Horcrux is?"

Dobby shook his head vigorously.

"Do you remember a diary that Lucius Malfoy used to have, given to him by Voldemort?"

Dobby nodded. "Dreadful book, Dobby remembers it."

"That was a Horcrux - it had a piece of Voldemort's soul in it, which is why it felt so wrong to you."

Dobby nodded. "Was? Is not now?"

"Yeah, I destroyed it back in second year. Actually, that was what I threw at Lucius with my sock - that was how I got you free of the Malfoys."

Dobby nodded again. "Is that being why Bad Dark Lord still lives?"

"Yes. How did you know that Voldemort wasn't really dead?"

"Dobby is hearing Professor Dumbledore say it, Master Harry Potter Sir."

"Fair enough. Anyway, Dobby, there are more of these Horcruxes. You must never tell anyone about this, though, not unless I say you can."

"Dobby understands, Master Harry Potter Sir. Dobby will keep Master Harry Potter Sir's secrets."

"Um... Do you think you could you call me something else? I don't know, something shorter?"

Dobby thought for a few seconds. "Master Harry? Dobby could say Master Harry."

"Yes, thanks Dobby - that's much better. Now, as I was saying, there are more Horcruxes. I've destroyed a few of them, but we think there are still four out there. The Cup isn't a problem - the goblins will take care of that - but we still need to find Ravenclaw's diadem, plus Slytherin's locket and some ugly ring. They should all feel wrong to you, just like the diary did. Dobby, do you have any idea where to find them?"

Dobby stared intently at Harry. "Diadem, Master Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, then stopped short. He shot Professor Dumbledore a pleading look.

Dumbledore smiled beatifically. "Jewelled headwear, like a crown or a tiara."

"Thank you!" chorused Harry and Dobby.

Dobby turned back to Harry, bouncing thoughtfully on the balls of his feet. "Is these things being hidden?"

"Yes, I expect they are."

"Dobby be back in a second - Dobby must check something."

With those words and a loud crack, Dobby disappeared. Harry and Dumbledore looked at each other for a moment, then both shrugged helplessly. They sat in surprisingly comfortable silence as they waited for the excitable house elf - now Harry's excitable house elf - to return.

* * *

Harry was asleep when Dobby returned nearly half an hour later, but was woken abruptly by the "crack" of Dobby's reappearance - Dumbledore, of course, had not moved from his recliner. Both wizards looked eagerly to the house elf, and they were not disappointed - in his hands Dobby held a tarnished silver tiara.

"Is that...?" said Harry in an awed whisper.

"Dobby is finding the diadem of Ravenclaw, yes. Dobby is finding it in the Come-and-Go Room, where many things are hidden."

"That's brilliant!" said Harry. "Well done, Dobby, and thank you so much - you're the best!"

Dobby danced a little on the spot, unable to contain his excitement. Dumbledore, meanwhile, reached out his hand. Dobby, suddenly serious, laid the diadem reverently in the old man's hands. Dumbledore examined it closely, but he never seemed to be in much doubt.

"Yes, this most certainly is a Horcrux. That taint is unmistakable. I cannot safely destroy it myself, but I believe that the goblins can do so. It is even possible that they may have some way to cleanse it of the taint without destroying the object itself - that would be especially useful here, since Ravenclaw's diadem is said to have magical powers. Dobby, I must add my own thanks - you really have done extraordinarily well."

Dobby bowed deeply, before turning back to Harry. "Master Harry Po-... er, I mean, Master Harry would like Dobby to find others?"

Harry nodded. "If you could, that'd be brilliant. It's fantastic that you found one straight away - we really weren't expecting that. Um... Could you ask other elves or something?"

Dobby nodded. "Can Dobby borrow the diadem of Ravenclaw?"

Harry and Dumbledore both looked startled.

"If Dobby can show what Horcruxes feel like, then Dobby is sure that other elfs will help."

Dumbledore conceded that, and handed the diadem back. Dobby disappeared with a loud crack, and Harry and Dumbledore were left alone once more.

"What now, sir?" said Harry quietly.

"We must go to Gringotts, as a matter of some urgency. Even more urgently, however, we must apprehend as many Death Eaters as we can - before they know to hide."

"Fawkes?"

"Yes. And Harry, I am afraid that I cannot take you with me - it is safest if I go alone."

"I could guard them," offered Harry.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "Yes, I suppose that would be helpful. Come along then, Harry - we've work to do. We shall return for breakfast several hours hence, but for now you must drink this potion - it will delay your need for food, though you will then eat a tremendous amount at breakfast."

Fawkes appeared while Harry was drinking the potion, and transported the two wizards as soon as he was finished. Looking around, Harry found himself in a large and dusty classroom that he completely failed to recognise. "Where are we, Headmaster?"

"Hogwarts was once far larger, Harry - we once had thousands of students, not merely a few hundred as we now have. Yet another crime to lay at Voldemort's feet, I'm afraid - so many families destroyed, and also so many young wizards and witches far too terrified to bring a child into his world. We will recover eventually if we can rid our world of this pureblood mania, but for now Hogwarts has a great many disused rooms. This particular room, in fact, has seen no use in my entire time at Hogwarts - I am confident that none will seek it, though of course I will nevertheless ward it as best I can. Which, between you and me, is quite a best."

Harry frowned. "If it's all Voldemort's fault that there are so few students here, then why was this room unused even before he came to Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore looked impressed. "Well reasoned, Harry. Voldemort is indeed not solely responsible for the decline - birth rates have fallen over time also, driven in turn by other factors. That doesn't make so neat a story, however, and in any case I believe that this problem will resolve itself if we can only overcome this damnable obsession with so-called blood purity. You will have a central role to play in that change, Harry, which is one among many reasons why I chose to bring you into my confidence.  
"Now, these are concerns for another day - I promise you that I will tell you everything, but for now we have more pressing concerns. I intend this room to be a temporary holding cell - I shall fetch the Death Eaters one by one, as many as I can, and you will watch over them in my absence. I shall bind them in magical stasis, so they should present no difficulties, but I trust that you will be more than able to deal with any surprises. Shall we?"

Harry nodded emphatically. "Go, Headmaster."

"Albus, please, at least in private. Merlin knows you've earned it."

Harry smiled. "Albus, then. Go, Albus. Fetch some Death Eaters."

Dumbledore shimmered into invisibility. There was a pause of several seconds, and then Fawkes abruptly disappeared from where Dumbledore had been standing.

Alone once more, Harry inspected the room more closely. He dragged the dusty old chairs and tables to the middle of the room, then pointed his wand at the pile. "Tergeo," he muttered, and the dust vanished. He repeated this several times for the room itself, including the walls, until there was no more dust. He then sat down on one of the ancient chairs, and waited for Dumbledore to return.

* * *

Dumbledore returned nearly half an hour later - the limp unconscious body of Lucius Malfoy appeared in a flash of flame, and then Albus Dumbledore shimmered into view beside him. Dumbledore conjured manacles and fixed them to Lucius' wrists, then levitated the man and stuck the manacles near the top of one wall. Noting Harry's somewhat concerned look, he smiled at his young protege.

"I assure you, Harry, that this arrangement causes neither discomfort nor harm. The manacles are spelled to be comfortable, and they keep him near-weightless as well as unconscious. The only reason for placing him on the wall like this is to have him out of the way and helpless. To that end, his wand is of course in my possession."

Harry nodded. "Fair enough. What do I do if he stirs?"

Dumbledore cast a further spell on Lucius, and Harry saw a faint blue mist settle into the man's skin as his breathing stopped. "He shouldn't stir, Harry - make no mistake about that. Should he stir, however, simply Stun him and await my return. Should he somehow manage to escape his restraints, I trust to your ingenuity in making alternate arrangements - rest assured that he should find no outside help here, none whatsoever. You shouldn't be disturbed here."

Harry nodded, and settled back in his chair. Dumbledore shimmered from view once more, and once more left with a flash of fire. Harry stared at the Malfoy patriarch, wondering just what could have taken the Headmaster and his phoenix half an hour to fetch this man. Still, the man was here now - all was well, at least for now. Harry watched him intently, wand always ready.

In the next half hour, Dumbledore brought back a further six of the wanted Death Eaters: Jugson, McNair, Yaxley, Nott, Travers and Rowle. Apparently Malfoy really had been exceptionally difficult to find. Harry noted that Dumbledore seemed to be starting with those Death Eaters who wielded political power - clearly the old man had learned to fear that power when wielded against him, either openly or in secret. In the third half hour he fetched Avery and Gibbon, and tried and failed to fetch Crabbe, Goyle and the Carrow twins - apparently they were more paranoid, or more competent, or just being taken care of elsewhere by a competent ally. Crouch, of course, was nowhere to be found - Dumbledore didn't even know where to start looking for him, and therefore did not try.

Finally Dumbledore sat back. "Nine. I'm afraid I'll find no more this morning, Harry - truthfully, I expected no more than perhaps half so many as this. I suspect that the remaining four are in Crouch's hands by now, and that the five of them may well be a thorn in our sides. Still, they have precious little power with which to worry us - some brains left in Crouch's fevered mind, a bottomless viciousness in the Carrow twins, and not a great deal besides. We have here the bulk of the political and financial power once wielded by the Death Eaters, and of course what's left of their once-terrifying magical power. They are no longer the Death Eaters who brought Magical Britain to its knees."

Harry had to concede that, as he headed off for a well-earned breakfast.


	13. Chapter Thirteen: The Third Task

**A/N: **The spelling for Fleur's speech is a bit inconsistent at times, because I decided that an English-speaking audience would probably have trouble with representing eg. "throw" as "srow". I compromised between accuracy and readability for non-Francophones - I hope I got the balance more or less right. Viktor's idiolect is more complex, because English is his third language after Bulgarian (his mother's first language) and German (his father's first language and the main language spoken at Durmstrang).

**Chapter Thirteen: The Third Task**

* * *

Almost as soon as Harry entered the Great Hall, he was hug-tackled by the brightest witch of their generation.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, as the entire Hall fell silent. "Where were you? Are you OK? Will you be OK?"

Harry laughed. "Hermione, breathe. Yes I'm fine, yes I will be fine, and I'll tell you where I've been when we can talk privately."

She squeezed him again, then grabbed his shoulders and examined him critically at arm's length.

"You look tired, Harry. Please, please be careful."

"Yes Hermione, I promise I'll be careful. I promise I'm not trying to get myself hurt - yesterday wasn't my fault at all, and it shouldn't ever happen again."

Hermione looked somewhat mollified. She guided him to a seat between Ron and herself, and began loading up his plate. When Harry raised an eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. "I've lived with you for four years, Harry - did you really think I wouldn't know what you eat for breakfast?"

He grinned and hugged her tightly, much to her surprise. "What was that for?"

"For being you, Hermione. You're brilliant, and I don't just mean in class."

She blushed a little, but looked appropriately smug as she continued to pile food onto his plate.

"Harry," Ron said, "what happened?"

Harry glanced toward Hermione, who pulled out her wand and cast a low-level privacy charm.

"That should keep most people out," she said, "but a teacher could still listen if they wanted to."

Harry nodded. "OK, Ron. I was kidnapped on the way back from Herbology. No idea who by - I didn't see them. I woke up tied to a headstone in a graveyard somewhere, surrounded by Death Eaters."

Ron gaped at him. "No way!"

"Yeah, it was weird."

"Weird?" said Hermione, sounding almost offended. "You get yourself kidnapped by a bunch of wizard terrorists, and you say it's weird?"

"Well, it was!"

She shook her head. "Not scary? Terrifying? Awful?"

He grinned. "Well yes, of course it was all of that. But it was also weird."

"How'd you get away?" said Ron eagerly.

Harry shrugged. "I got hit by a spell that knocked me out. Woke up in the infirmary - I think Dumbledore rescued me."

Hermione winced, and Ron exclaimed, "Bloody hell!"

Harry shrugged. "Welcome to my life."

Hermione moved as if to smack his arm, then paused. "Um... Harry? You do remember the Third Task is tonight, don't you?"

Harry deflated slightly, and muttered something unprintable (and fortunately unintelligible) under his breath.

"What was that?" said Hermione sternly.

Harry gave a brief half-shake of his head. "I don't need this. I do not need this."

Hermione looked hurt. "The Task, you mean?"

"Yes, the Task. What else could I be talking about?"

Hermione lowered her eyes. "Me?"

There was a long pause, as Harry stared openmouthed at his friend.

Finally he found his voice. "Hermione, are you blind? I've needed you since before I even met you. I don't think I could ever not need you. Please, please, please, don't ever doubt that."

There was an even longer pause, as Harry and Hermione both realised just what he had said. Lost in their own personal introspections, neither of them noticed when Fay quietly pulled Ron away from the table.

Finally Hermione spoke, her voice remarkably clear and matter-of-fact despite her blush and averted eyes. "When you asked me to the Yule Ball, you asked me as a friend. Have you changed your mind about that, Harry?"

Harry continued to blush, and spoke haltingly. "Um... I really didn't mean to say what I just said - didn't mean it to come out the way it did..."

Hermione cut him off. "No, of course you didn't, but haven't you ever heard of a Freudian slip? Answer the question, Harry."

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "Hermione, I care about you more than anyone. When you were teaching me to dance, I was really sure I didn't feel anything for you romantically. Now suddenly I'm confused - I, I... I just don't know what I feel. Just... I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to all that stuff, but please trust that I'll always be your friend no matter what. OK? And I promise that someday, hopefully soon, I'll tell you my secrets. All of them. No matter what I do or don't feel about you like that, I absolutely hate keeping secrets from you. Er... and if you happened to learn Occlumency, that'd be good too."

Hermione stared hungrily at him, diverted for now. "So what haven't you told us? I mean, what else can you tell me right now?"

Harry smiled. "Well, Dumbledore's going to be training me. Personally, I mean."

Hermione looked suitably impressed, but said nothing. After a long pause, their conversation turned to safer topics.

* * *

Immediately after breakfast, Harry followed Dumbledore out of the Great Hall.  
"Professor," he said quietly, "are we going to, um, continue?"

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment, but then nodded. "Very well. Follow me, Harry. You will of course miss some classes today, as you prepare for the Third Task."

When Harry and Albus were safely in the Headmaster's office, Albus sealed the room entirely except for the Floo connection (and of course the unblockable magic of the phoenix). He quietly fetched Amelia and Kingsley from the Ministry - both came eagerly, curious to see the next act.

"Amelia, Kingsley," said Albus calmly, "thank you for coming. I have a number of wanted Death Eaters in my custody - shall we question them? Severus has left me ample Veritaserum for our purposes."

Amelia Bones nodded. "Good. Again, these will be official interrogations - we'll be using the transcripts in the actual trials, which will be happening as soon as I can manage. I'm not sure which of the bastards you got, but I'd like to see them weasel out of this one."

Albus smiled beatifically, then vanished in a flicker of flame. He reappeared a few seconds later with the unconscious form of Lucius Malfoy. Amelia openly gaped for a moment, before her face settled into a grim smile as Albus administered Veritaserum and woke the man. For years now the Malfoy patriarch had fought against almost every good thing she'd tried to do as head of the DMLE; today was a good day for Amelia Bones.

"What is your name?" she said quietly.

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy."

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

"Did you take Voldemort's Mark willingly?"

"Yes."

Amelia allowed herself a brief, tight, smile - with that admission under Veritaserum, not even Lucius Malfoy could escape Azkaban. She paused for a moment to plan ahead, suddenly very aware that her words would be scrutinised and dissected, first by the Wizengamot and then by the entire population of Magical Britain. When she continued, her voice was completely neutral.

"Who in the Ministry works for you?"

* * *

It was a tired but proud Harry who joined his friends for lunch in the Great Hall, quietly taking his seat between them. Hermione gave him a quick one-armed hug, but knew better than to pester him when he looked so tired. She waited until he had eaten a decent meal, and even then she spoke softly once she'd cast the requisite privacy charms.  
"Harry," she said, "can you tell us anything about where you were this morning?"

Harry shook his head. "I was preparing for the Third Task, Hermione. I'm sorry, I really am sorry, but that's the only answer I can give you right now."

Hermione took several deep breaths, visibly relaxing her shoulders. "Harry, I don't mean to pry and if I'm being a pain you can just tell me and I'll stop, but when can you tell me?"

A grin flickered across Harry's face, but he was serious once more as he answered her. "When your Occlumency's strong enough, or when things don't need to be so secret anymore - whichever comes first."

Hermione frowned. "You know Occlumency?"

"No, I don't. I'm an exception, though. It, it is a risk for me to know the things I know, but we don't really have much choice about that - I've got a job to do, and I'm the only one that can do it. Um... also, I really need you and Ron to not even mention that I have any secrets worth knowing."

Hermione nodded seriously. "I promise."

Ron echoed her, likewise serious, as Harry quietly left to follow Dumbledore out of the Hall.

* * *

By the time Harry followed his friends to the Quidditch pitch that evening, the Third Task felt utterly trivial to him. He and his co-conspirators had finished their interrogations early in the afternoon; Amelia now had 9 Death Eaters safely in custody, evidence collated and trials to be held on the morrow. She had also left Hogwarts with arrest warrants for several dozen Ministry employees, whom she had (Harry assumed) since arrested. All in all Harry felt he had saved Magical Britain a time or two already in the past day, and he found himself utterly unable to work up any real nervousness about a maze which he had no intention of battling anyway. He entered the Champions' tent totally relaxed, so much so that Fleur smacked his shoulder lightly when she saw him.

"'Arry, mon cheri, 'ow can you be so calm? I, I am so... 'ow you say, énervé?"

Harry, whose French was rather limited, did his best. "Er, nervous?"

"Yes, but eet ees more zan zat! I 'ave all zis energy, an' I cannot sink straight! Merde alors, I cannot even speak straight! I feel... fireballs, 'Arry, I feel zem, 'ow you say... rising in me!"

Harry pulled the older girl, young woman really, into a hug. "Relax, Fleur. What's the worst that's going to happen?"

"I could lose, 'Arry! I could die! I could... transform."

She broke away from Harry, turning and walking to a corner. Confused, Harry followed her.

"Transform?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oui, transform. I am Veela, you know. Een my ozzer form, I am not so beautiful. Eenormous scaly bird, 'Arry - I 'ate eet! Eet ees not me! Oh 'Arry, I just feel so... so... dérangé."

Harry wrapped his arms around her again, and gradually she relaxed into him. After a few minutes she shrugged off his arms, then turned around and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, 'Arry. I do not like to lose control like zat."

Harry waved off her thanks, and only then did he (and then Fleur) become aware that Cedric and Viktor were watching them with undisguised fascination.

Cedric, they noticed, had an odd smile on his face.

"I've been thinking," said Cedric quietly, "about what it means to be a champion. I mean, I'm Hufflepuff's champion - I suppose I have been for a while, really. And I'm a champion for Hogwarts, along with Harry here of course, and I'm proud to carry that honour too. But this Tournament is supposed to be about international cooperation, and I don't see how that makes sense if one of us wins and the others lose. That's not how cooperation works. That's not how friendship works."

"Agreed," said Viktor. "I like you. You fight well, all of you. You have courage, honour. In Quidditch maybe I beat you, try to run you into ground like Lynch. Quidditch... Quidditch is winners and losers, not cooperation. Here they tell me is cooperation, friendship between lands, between peoples. But if I beat you here, your people hate me. You beat me here, my people hate you. Maybe we be best of friends. I hope we be best of friends. But, no one cares. They will hate you for me, or they will hate me for you. They don't care what we want, they don't care if we friends. But if we share, then no one need to hate. Too... Too confused to hate."

Harry grinned. "I like it. I'm in."

"Eh bien, I weel do eet."

"Well of course I'll do it," said Cedric cheerfully.

* * *

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls," boomed the avuncular voice of Ludo Bagman, as the crowd filed into the stands around the Quidditch pitch. "Welcome to the third and final task of this historic Triwizard Tournament, or I suppose I should say Quad-wizard Tournament! In the former Quidditch pitch behind me - don't worry, it will be a Quidditch pitch again after tonight - in the Quidditch pitch behind me is a magical maze. In its centre is the Triwizard Cup itself, waiting for the Champion among Champions to claim it. Our four Champions must navigate this labyrinth, which by the way may well decide to rearrange itself at any time, but in addition they'll need to overcome the obstacles scattered throughout it. And let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we have some devilishly tricky challenges in there. Please join me in a round of applause to wish the Champions luck in there - between you and me, they're going to need it.

"Now, the Champions will be entering the maze in order of score - we've decided to space them out evenly, so only their scoring order counts here. Don't want them treading on each other's heels after all now, do we? Each Champion will have a full three minutes' head start, before the next one follows."

Eventually Bagman got to the point, and called the Champions out of their tent. He had them demonstrate they could shoot sparks up if they needed help, and he ran through their scores in predictably melodramatic fashion. A little more hot air, a painfully loud cannon-blast sound from his wand, and Viktor Krum (in the lead with 84 points) entered the maze. The remaining three Champions stood apart from one another, wrapped in their own thoughts.

Roughly ten minutes after Krum had entered the maze, Harry met his fellow champions just around the first corner.

"Goot," said Viktor, "who is leader?"

Cedric pointed at Harry. "I know he's the youngest and all, but I'm pretty sure Harry's seen more action than the rest of us put together. He's still alive, and so are the friends who always seem to be with him for that stuff. So, uhm, whatever he's doing, it's worked out pretty well so far."

Viktor shrugged impassively, and Fleur gave Harry a measuring look. Harry himself was surprised, but shrugged it off - this wasn't likely to be all that dangerous compared to yesterday, after all. He nodded quietly.

"OK," he said, "for a start, there's no point trying to hide or sneak. We should have plenty of power between us to deal with anything this maze throws at us, and we could hardly hide ourselves very well even if we wanted to anyway. Fleur, you're left-handed - you're watching our left-hand side, at least for now. I'll take the front, again only for now - we'll swap around from time to time. Viktor, you're on the right-hand side. Cedric, you guard the rear. Any threat from whatever direction, the people either side lend a hand and the person opposite watches for other threats. All clear?"

The other three nodded, all somewhat surprised by Harry's confidence and competence, and they moved to take up positions.

"_Point me,_" said Harry, and his wand spun on his hand to point to their left. "_Accio Triwizard Cup,_" he added, as the other Champions stared at him.

"Obviously it's not going to just come to me," he said, "but I was hoping it'd pull on my wand a bit. And it did - right now the Cup is kinda northwest from here, and I can just recheck that anytime we're not sure where to go. Anyone mind if we just blast our way straight through the walls, and forget about the maze thing?"

Fleur nodded, Viktor grunted, and Cedric laughed out loud. "I feel like my Hufflepuff soul should be telling you off right now, Harry, but I'm pretty sure there's no rule saying we can't. What spell would you use, though?"

Harry grinned. "I do a pretty good Cutting Charm."

The four of them set off down the path leading directly towards the Cup, watching for danger in all four directions. Harry cast "_Lumos Maxima_" on the front of his robes, effectively turning himself into a human floodlight.

They came to a T-intersection, each turn going at right angles from where they wanted to go. "Spiders, left!" called Fleur suddenly, as she cast her own Lumos Maxima on the hedge nearby. Harry and Cedric turned to help her, and Viktor (with a visible effort) turned the other way to watch their backs.

Harry held himself still and consciously drew his magic in and up, aiming his wand carefully as an Acromantula bounded towards him. "_Reducto!_" he yelled, and several of the giant spider's eyes abruptly disappeared in a sickly dark-grey mist. He turned to help Fleur, and found her already turning to help him - her Acromantula was smouldering gently where it lay, and there were no others to be seen. Harry and Fleur turned around; Viktor and Cedric were standing companionably side by side in front of what seemed to be one Acromantula's worth of body parts. The four Champions took a moment to high-five and calm down, before Harry confirmed their directions with another Accio. As expected, the hedge was their way forward.

"Lacero!" Harry muttered, slashing his wand down like a meat cleaver. Viktor did likewise a metre or two to Harry's right, and Cedric Levitated the excised section of hedge. Fleur waved her wand and muttered something in French, and it moved across until it was hovering over an intact section of hedge. Cedric canceled his spell, and the Champions walked cautiously through the gap.

Through the gap, the four Champions found themselves up against another blank wall of greenery. Dark passages stretched away on either side of them. Viktor muttered something guttural and indistinct, and was raising his wand to blast the hedge when Fleur laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I theenk sideways ees more rapid, no? Less work?"

Viktor shrugged, and shone a powerful Lumos beam down each passage in turn. The left-hand passage looked far shorter - quite short, in fact. The four set out purposefully, unconsciously arranging themselves in another defensive diamond formation as they walked.

They rounded the corner, and stopped short. Before them, towering above them, sat a Sphinx. Harry doubted that any real lion ever had haunches quite so large as this, and certainly her head and shoulders were far larger than human. Her face was cruel, proud, and unearthly beautiful; her wings, folded now, brilliant white with hints of gold. Her voice, when she spoke, was deep and warm and rich and frankly rather terrifying.

"Welcome, strangers. Answer my riddle, and you may pass. Walk away, and you may go in peace. Answer me falsely, and I shall tear you all limb from limb."

The Champions exchanged glances, but none of them quite knew what to say to that. After a pause, the Sphinx continued.

"Who makes me, has no need of me.  
Who buys me, has no use for me.  
Who uses me can neither see nor feel me.  
What am I?"

The Champions exchanged glances, but none of them had any idea, and none of them had any desire at all to fight the Sphinx. Harry found himself wishing that Hermione were there, but of course it was rather too late for that.

"Turn back?" he said quietly. The others nodded. Harry bowed silently to the Sphinx before turning and retracing his steps, the other Champions following close behind him. The Sphinx, haughty and terrible, allowed them to escape.

* * *

Some twists and turns later, and having hacked their way through a number of hedges along the way, the Champions entered an open clearing - the first open ground they'd seen since they entered the maze. In its centre, perched perhaps a metre in the air on an entirely tasteless marble pedestal, was the Triwizard Cup. It glowed faintly blue, as if lit from within by those blue flames that Hermione liked so much. Cedric started forward, closely followed by Fleur and Viktor, but Harry stopped them.

"Wait."

They looked back at him, confused. He shrugged faintly.

"I'm pretty sure it's a Portkey. We can't just say we touched it at the same time - we actually have to trigger it together."

Harry walked past the others, to stand within striking distance of the Cup. He held out his right hand, palm down, high above the Cup. One by one the other Champions laid their right hands over his, and then he began to lower his hand, and hence their hands. He smiled suddenly as he realised that the time for breaking their promise had now passed - all of them had honoured their agreement. International cooperation indeed. Then his hand touched the handle of the Cup, and he felt the familiar hook behind his navel. He had time to notice Fleur, Cedric and Viktor whirling around him in the black void between here and there, their hands stuck to his just as surely as it was stuck to the Cup.

* * *

**A/N:** If it seems like they had an easy run through the labyrinth, it's because they did. By cutting through walls they managed to traverse very little of the actual paths, and hence they encountered only a small fraction of the obstacles scattered around within it. Plus, working as a team makes a tremendous difference.


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Conflict

**A/N:** The Champions don't know the answer to the riddle in the previous chapter, but it's a coffin.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Conflict**

Meanwhile, the crowd outside the maze was thoroughly bored. There might well be tremendously exciting things going on inside the maze, but the crowd could see nothing of it - they had nothing but a featureless hedge to look at, and an opaque black haze blanketing whatever lay behind it. Ludo Bagman had long since given up trying to entertain the crowd, and even the Weasley twins (uncharacteristically for them) hadn't come prepared. In fact the twins had headed off to the castle some time earlier and hadn't been seen since.

With a sound of rushing wind, the four Champions appeared in front of the podium and were promptly slammed into the ground. They sprawled in different directions, coping as best they could with the sudden stop. Fleur and Viktor both rolled and came up on their feet - Fleur with infinite grace, and Viktor with such intense focus that his feet actually left the ground for a moment as he came back up. Cedric flung out an arm to break his fall, but ended up lying on the ground. And Harry, poor Harry who had never yet mastered Floo travel or anything like it, sprawled full-length and hit the ground painfully hard as he twisted awkwardly to protect the Cup.

Quite apart from having been distracted by incidental conversations and the like, the crowd had not expected to see all four Champions return together. The stunned silence lasted long enough for Harry and Cedric to regain their feet, before the applause started. Then Cedric the Hufflepuff and Fleur the diplomat quickly pulled the Champions together, and the four of them stood in a line with arms around each other as they bowed to the crowd.

Unseen in the space under the stand, Fred and George Weasley quietly cast a modified Sonorus - they had originally developed it for personal eavesdropping, but in this case they extended it so that the entire crowd could hear everything that the officials and the Champions said.

The Champions' shared celebration was interrupted by Cornelius Fudge and Ludo Bagman, neither of whom looked happy. Both were visibly angry, but seemingly in different ways - Cornelius seemed embarrassed also, whereas Ludo's anger was overlaid with fear. Cornelius, the sole politician of the pair, spoke first.

"Congratulations, all of you - you've all overcome the obstacles of the Third Task, and you should be very proud of yourselves. You've also all successfully completed the Tournament as a whole, and for that I offer my sincerest congratulations. Now, which of you reached the Cup first?"

There was a somewhat stunned pause, before Fleur fixed Magical Britain's nominal leader with a look of supreme contempt. Her voice, when she spoke, held no hint of her native tongue - rather, she spoke in a brilliantly-observed parody of Fudge's unctuous mouthings. His slowness of speech, intended to make him seem profound and intelligent, became in Fleur's mouth the exaggerated manner in which one might address a profoundly stupid person.  
"We reached the Cup together, Minister Fudge. All four of us. That, Minister Fudge, is why the Cup brought all four of us out here."

Fudge gaped at her. Fleur had effortless grace in addition to her Veela allure, and in this instance she was leaning heavily on both. She had somehow managed to sound charming even while essentially calling the Minister for Magic a moron to his face. The man in question shook his head sharply, regathering his wits.

"Be that as it may, Miss Delacour, I'm afraid that the rules require a single winner."

Harry raised a hand.  
"Minister, are those the same rules that say there are only supposed to be three Champions?"

Fudge, for once, completely ignored the Boy Who Lived. Instead he continued to look expectantly at Fleur.

Fleur, now controlling her temper much more successfully, merely raised her eyebrows slightly. When she finally deigned to reply, her voice was no longer a parody of his.  
"Minister Fudge, are you saying zat your rules require me to lie? Again I tell you, we reached ze Cup togezzer. 'Ow else could we 'av all come out togezzer?"

Fudge, finally, turned to the other champions.  
"Harry, is this true?"

Harry rolled his eyes.  
"Yes, Minister. We did all reach the Cup together. And no, by the way, Fleur is not lying like you just accused her of. Could we maybe try _not_ insulting our international guests quite so much, Minister?"

Fudge winced.  
"Don't be silly, Harry - I meant nothing of the sort."

There was an awkward pause, eventually broken by Bagman.  
"Well, I suppose we could use a handicap of some sort - Harry _is_ three years younger than the others, for instance."

As the other three Champions stared at Bagman, Harry nodded vigorously. "Brilliant! I'm sure no one will mind at all if you just randomly award the prize to your own champion."

In the background, large portions of the crowd began laughing loudly enough to attract their attention. Fudge, ever the politician, promptly backed down.  
"Now, Ludo, that wouldn't be fair at all. However, I believe Mr Krum had rather an impressive lead on points after the first two Tasks - that makes him the rightful winner, does it not?"

Bagman grimaced briefly, but didn't object.  
"True enough, Cornelius. Mr Krum?"

Viktor returned Bagman's gaze, looking suddenly uncertain. He paused a moment, but then squared his shoulders.  
"I did not win your tournament alone. I will not take the prize alone. Give it to all, or give it to none."

**BANG!**

All four Champions suddenly dropped to the ground, wands in hands as they looked around wildly for the explosion. Harry recognised Dobby, dancing in fury as his wildly gesticulating hands seemed to be chopping up large chunks of the ground in front of him. Harry briefly noted two faint shimmers disappearing into the distance in that direction, recognising them as Disillusioned wizards before his attention was diverted by a tremendous creaking sound behind him. He rose quickly to a crouching position and turned, absently noting the the other Champions doing likewise.

The ground shook as the enormous stand, packed with spectators, slammed down. Brightly-coloured curses rained down on the fallen stand, adding to the chaos as the vast mass of people lay mostly helpless.

"Two people," said Viktor decisively, "invisible, moving around, casting curses."

A moment later the Weasley twins, clearly recognisable even at this distance by their bright red hair, opened fire on one of the invisible attackers.

Harry almost sighed in relief.  
"Fred and George can handle that one - Viktor, take us to the other one."

Viktor grunted and set off at a crouching half-run, not bothering to check that the others were following him. They fanned out as they drew closer and the Disillusioned attacker turned away from the crowd in favour of firing curses at the Champions.

The Champions returned fire, and the intruder was forced to raise a shield. Although faint, this shield was still much easier to see than the faint shimmer of Disillusionment in motion - that near-invisibility was now useless except for anonymity.

As the other three Champions dueled fiercely, Harry quietly moved around behind and between Fleur and Viktor. As he had hoped, the intruder had no time or energy to waste on him whilever he wasn't actually attacking. He consciously called up his magic, as he had in the graveyard the previous day, and once again he channeled the intoxicating flood into the most destructive spell he knew.

_"Reducto!"_

Harry's brilliant blue hex wasn't blocked by the intruder's misty orange shield, because he had aimed instead for the ground just in front of it. The overpowered hex hurled dirt against the bottom of the barrier, but the greater force was spent in the earth behind the shield. There it was as if a bomb had gone off just under the surface.

The shield winked out as the tremendous blast of dirt outlined a figure tossed backward like a rag doll. The four Champions ran forward, three still throwing curses and Harry staying with the people he trusted to keep him safe. They found a recognisably human shape in the dirt. Krum touched his wand to its head and murmured something, and a moment later they could all see a human underneath the dirt.

"Amycus Carrow," said Cedric grimly. Harry nodded, then took the moment to look beyond their immediate situation. The crowd was mostly clear of the fallen stand - that situation seemed well in hand. Further away, Fred and George Weasley were still battling the other intruder. It was hard to tell from this distance, but Harry thought they might be struggling. He turned back to his friends and fellow Champions.  
"We need to tie him up or something - we need him alive, and we can't afford to let him go. And we need to do it right now, because the Weasley twins need help."

Cedric conjured ropes, Fleur cast another Stunner just to be sure, and Viktor cast a spell that made the Carrow's clothes and exposed skin sparkle blue-white. At the others' raised eyebrows, he shrugged.  
"Trust me, do not touch it."

Harry grabbed the fallen attacker's wand and stowed it in his robes, and then ran to catch up with the other Champions as they joined the Weasley twins' fight. They were just in time to see one of the twins crumple and fall, blood spurting from his neck. Harry winced.  
"Fleur, save him!"

Fleur, who was indeed quite skilled with Healing charms, ran to do so as the other three spread out to attack the invisible opponent whom Harry knew must be Alecto Carrow.

Alecto had no shield - it occurred to Harry that she must have been toying with the Weasleys, not seriously trying until she realised that the Champions might be a threat to her. He set that thought aside for now, though, as he joined Viktor and Cedric in raining curses on the dancing shimmer that was Alecto Carrow.

A moment later she raised a shield, the same misty orange as her brother's. Viktor and Cedric rained curses on it, and Harry quietly drifted around behind them. Once again, this protected him from direct attack - the only reason he had to dodge at all was because some of Carrow's spells against Cedric or Viktor were so poorly aimed.

Harry once more consciously drew up his magic, feeling the effort more this time. Once again he poured all his magic into a Reductor aimed at the earth just short of the shield. Again the dirt flew up, again the shield winked out, and again he saw the dirt outline of a rag doll flying through the air. This time he noticed the sound - the solid bass _thump_ of the initial shock, and the higher-pitched chaos as dirt and debris flew everywhere. He sank to his knees, magically exhausted, but managed to hold onto consciousness. He stayed kneeling in the dirt as Cedric and Viktor ran forward to secure their opponent.

Harry perked up within perhaps half a minute, at least enough to resume his interest in the world around him - he certainly wasn't about to cast any spells. Fleur was still with whichever Weasley twin had been hurt, and the other twin was hovering beside her. It seemed to Harry that the situation was now under control - Fleur seemed relaxed, and even the unhurt twin was remarkably calm given the circumstances. Viktor and Cedric were guarding a now-visible Alecto Carrow, Viktor having countered her Disillusionment. Amycus Carrow's unconscious form, meanwhile, lay alone and unguarded. Harry nodded decisively.

"Cedric and Fleur, stay where you are. Viktor, go get the other Carrow. I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey."

Older though they were, the other Champions merely nodded and followed Harry's orders. He, meanwhile, took off running - he might be magically exhausted, but physically he was fine. He found Madam Pomfrey overseeing quick checkups for all who'd been on the stand when it fell - professors and upper-year students were doing most of the actual spellwork, since even Madam Pomfrey couldn't cast diagnostic spells for hundreds of people in a row. She looked up as Harry approached.  
"Mr Potter?"  
He nodded soberly. "Madam Pomfrey. If you can spare a moment, I have a Weasley twin I'd like you to take a look at. I think Fleur has it under control for now, but his neck was gushing blood at first and I'd really rather not take chances."

He delivered the last two words to her retreating back, and she headed rapidly towards Fleur and the twins. Harry ran to catch up.

Madam Pomfrey's eyes widened when she saw the blood soaked into the grass beside the Weasley twin (Fred, apparently). She cast a quick diagnostic charm, and nodded slightly.  
"Mipsy!" she said briskly.

A tiny house-elf appeared, accompanied by a soft "crack" sound. "Yes, Mistress?"

"Please fetch me a dose of Blood-Replenishing Potion from my stores."

The elf disappeared with another cracking sound, then reappeared barely five seconds later with a beaker in her hand - by this time Madam Pomfrey had an unconscious Fred sitting up slightly with his head cradled in her arm. She took the beaker from Mipsy and tipped it carefully down Fred's throat, rubbing the skin to make the liquid go down properly. He trembled violently as the potion took effect, but he no longer looked so pale. Madam Pomfrey laid his head back down on the ground, then stood up and turned to Fleur.

"You saved that young man's life, no question - he'd have been dead in another two minutes, had you not intervened. Well done, and thank you."

As Fleur blushed, there was a soft "pop" and Dumbledore appeared. He took in the larger situation at a glance, and turned towards where Fudge and Bagman were awkwardly trying to stay out of the way. He paused a moment, then shook his head slightly and disappeared again.

Moments later, Dumbledore reappeared. With him came Amelia Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and a handful of other Aurors. These quickly took the Carrow twins into custody, and took a statement from Harry. Harry for his part was careful not to admit to knowing too much - he didn't want Fudge to start interfering now, when they were so close to removing the Death Eater threat for good. Harry also gave a statement to Rita Skeeter for the Daily Prophet, who he hoped would frame the story as a despicable attack thwarted by true international cooperation.

At last, when all was done bar the celebrations, Harry begged off and collapsed into bed. He had confirmed that no one was actually dead, and that all the injured people were expected to make full recoveries eventually - that was all he needed. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Morning

**Chapter Fifteen: Morning**

Early the next morning, so early that there was no sunshine through the window, Harry awoke early to find Dumbledore standing solemnly by his bed. Harry glanced around, realised that he was in fact in his dorm rather than the infirmary, and then gave the Headmaster a questioning look.

The old man nodded slightly. "I am sorry to wake you so early after such a day, Harry, but I'm afraid I could wait no longer. There is much that we must do, and Time is not our ally. Please get dressed as quickly as you can, and then call Dobby to take you to my office. I will have food brought - I shall be quite surprised if either of us makes an appearance in the Great Hall for breakfast. Perhaps lunch, if we fare well this morning."

Harry's eyes widened, but he merely nodded. Dumbledore disappeared with a muted "Crack!" - apparently the restriction on Apparating within Hogwarts didn't apply to the Headmaster - and Harry hurried to the bathroom to shower. Scant minutes later he called Dobby, and within moments they appeared in the Headmaster's office.

Harry glanced around as Dobby disappeared. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, seeming calm and confident (despite a hint of tension that Harry was just now learning to recognise). Amelia Bones, alert and formidable despite the dark circles under her eyes, sat on a plain wooden chair towards one wall. On a similar chair near her sat Kingsley Shacklebolt, impassive and seemingly indifferent to the time of day or night. All three were looking at Harry. Against the wall opposite Amelia and Kingsley, and indeed stuck to that wall some distance clear of the floor, were the motionless forms of the Carrow twins. Dumbledore, silently conjured another chair next to Kingsley, and Harry sat down. Dumbledore waved his wand, Levitating a few drops of some liquid into Alecto Carrow's mouth. He paused, and then woke her with another wave of his wand.

The pinioned witch glanced frantically around the room, but her face soon slackened as the Veritaserum took effect.

"What is your name?" asked Dumbledore quietly. Harry noticed a Dictaquill spring to life on his desk.

"Alecto Carrow."

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me about your attack on Hogwarts yesterday."

She paused briefly - Harry wasn't sure whether she was fighting the Veritaserum or just collecting her thoughts, but in any case it passed in seconds.

"Barty was supposed to kill Potter, and hopefully the other ones too. He was under Malfoy's Cloak. Crabbe and Goyle were with him - they were Disillusioned, like me and Amycus. We were supposed to bring down the stand and do as much damage as we could."

Despite the Veritaserum, she grinned. "We did it, too - brought it down, brought 'em all crashing down..."

Dumbledore interrupted. "Where are Crouch, Crabbe and Goyle now?"

"Malfoy's place."

"Is anyone else there with them?"

"Narcissa."

"Is Narcissa Malfoy a Death Eater?"

"Nah."

"What is Crouch planning next?"

"Diagon Alley, when all the filthy Mudbloods are buying their things for next year."

Dumbledore pressed her briefly for what little extra detail she knew, before Stunning her once more and turning to his companions. He drew forth from his robes a heavy golden locket, inlaid with a large letter 'S'. This he laid on his desk, and then placed Ravenclaw's Diadem beside it.

"These are two of Tom's remaining four Horcruxes, and I now know the whereabouts of the final two. Hufflepuff's Cup is of course in the Lestrange vault at Gringotts, and my research indicates that the ring is hidden in the Gaunt shack. Er, that is, the former home of Tom's mother, Merope Gaunt.

"I have no means of cleansing any of these Horcruxes without also destroying the objects from which they were made. As three or possibly four of them are priceless historical artifacts, to say nothing of any ancient magicks laid upon them, I must confess myself extremely reluctant to destroy them."

Amelia Bones looked steadily at him, and asked the obvious question. "Then what are you planning to do with them, Albus? I've known you far too long to think even for one moment that you would willingly allow Voldemort to return, when you have it within your power to prevent that."

Albus smiled. "My dear Amelia, I believe that the Goblins have some means by which they may cleanse the taint while preserving the underlying object. I am quite certain that they detest Horcruxes no less than we do. They may have no great fondness either for me or for your Ministry, but I believe they will listen to Harry Potter if he hands them three Horcruxes and tells them of a fourth within their vaults."

Harry looked up from his plate of sandwiches. "We're going for the ring this morning?"

Dumbledore nodded. "We are, as soon as we're finished here."

"Albus," said Amelia quietly, "is it strictly necessary to expose Harry to this danger?"

The old man shrugged helplessly. "That I cannot say, Amelia. I say only that he has earned the right to stand with us, and that I will not be surprised if we do indeed require his assistance. Recall for instance that he alone shares Tom's gift of Parseltongue."

Amelia nodded reluctantly.

* * *

The four co-conspirators appeared suddenly on a dark and deserted road, outside the tiny village of Little Hangleton. Albus Dumbledore almost immediately set off with great purpose, and Harry in particular had to half-run to keep up.

"Big hurry, Albus?" he asked with a grin.

The old man nodded serenely, not slackening his pace in the slightest. "Our time is somewhat scarce at present, yes. We certainly don't want Barty to bring Tom back again, and at present I know of nothing standing in his way. He need only conceive the idea too soon, and we are lost once more."

Harry nodded seriously. "Fair enough. You're aiming to change that by about lunchtime, then?"

"Preferably, yes. I did not lightly rouse you so early from your bed, my young friend, especially given the events of the day just gone."

To this, Harry merely grunted. They walked on in silence for several minutes, before Dumbledore paused at a very narrow gap in the hedge by the road.

"That tiny gap is a laneway, magically hidden. Harry, would you ask it to open for us?"

Harry shrugged and stepped forward, finding it surprisingly easy to imagine snakes in the vines that were tangled in the hedge at this point.

"§Open§," he said quietly. Despite Dumbledore's words, he was still quite surprised when the hedge moved aside to reveal a normal-looking laneway. It looked rather gloomy in the wan moonlight, but not much more so than the road they were already on. He shrugged, and they walked on through the hedge.

Dumbledore moved more slowly now, wand flickering almost constantly in his hand as he muttered under his breath. Harry was impressed - for all the raw power that Harry himself had at such a young age, he couldn't begin to match Dumbledore for knowledge and control. Mastery, in other words. The party walked on.

Eventually they reached a clearing with an overgrown shack in its centre. Here Dumbledore stopped short, and his companions very sensibly stayed behind him as he cast a delicate series of discerning charms. After a few minutes a large dome appeared briefly in the clearing, flashing painfully bright red before vanishing with a surprisingly quiet "pop". Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction, and continued walking.

Only a few metres further, he stopped again. "Parseltongue again, I believe. I cannot simply overpower any of these defences, you understand, because this entire clearing might well be consumed in the backlash, and us with it."

Harry obliged once more, and they continued. At length they reached the front door, ancient flimsy wood with a dead snake nailed to it. The door glowed in a complex arrangement of colours in response to Dumbledore's charms, and he made a noise as if intrigued by an intellectual exercise. A moment later he was hurled violently backwards several metres, and was fortunate to be caught by Amelia's spellwork and Kingsley's arms.

"Such a clever boy,"said Dumbledore absently, raising his wand as he walked back to the door.

Amelia turned to Harry. "We think Tom Riddle designed and cast these protections at age sixteen. He is an intolerable threat to our entire society and I am entirely resolved to see him dead as soon as possible, but I must admit he was an exceptional student."

Harry nodded, as Dumbledore continued to work on the door

* * *

The pre-dawn light was clear around them when Dumbledore finally pushed the door open. He was sweating slightly, and noted aloud that he might well have failed without Harry's help.

"Perhaps it would be best if you three were to remain outside," he said quietly. "I cannot be sure of protecting you in a confined space."

All three of his companions laughed, before Amelia spoke for them. "Safety in numbers, Albus - I expect at least some mental defences, to say nothing of any physical ones you can't handle."

Albus smiled beatifically, and soon they all stood together in the single filthy room. Dizzying minutes later, he reverently opened the beautiful old wooden casket that he had laid on the floor. Inside lay a ring, which somehow seemed to bear a richness beyond comprehension. Albus reached for it, his expression vague.

_"Accio!"_  
_"Accio!"_  
_"Accio!"_

Amelia, Kingsley and Harry all cast in the same split-second, and Albus was yanked backwards off his feet before he could touch the ring.

"That is the Resurrection Stone," he said longingly, as the others physically held him back.

"Sorry, Albus," said Amelia calmly, "but this is why you needed us in the room. There is no way that thing wouldn't give you at least one deadly curse just for touching it."

He nodded resignedly, and walked outside. "I cannot be allowed near the ring - can you, any of you?"

Harry shrugged and walked slowly forward, paying close attention to the ring. He was aware of its pull, but in his mind the object was made repulsive by the soapy taste of its Dark magic. "I think I'm safe," he said, "but do feel free to pull me back the moment you think I'm falling for it."

He levitated the ring, briefly amused to recall that this had been the very first spell he ever cast. He set out the leaden box that Dumbledore had given him at Hogwarts, and held his hands well clear as he dropped the ring into it. The ring rattled around furiously for a few moments once the lid was secured, but its hypnotic power was now entirely contained.

* * *

Harry walked purposefully through Gringotts' imposing doorway just past sunrise, nodding politely to the guards as he passed. Behind him, Albus Dumbledore and two shadowy cloaked figures drifted away from the bank and back down Diagon Alley.

Once inside, Harry looked around for a moment before heading directly for a particular clerk, who happened to be free. The goblin looked up, eyes widening very slightly before his face returned to flat neutrality.

"Yes?"

Harry smiled faintly. "Griphook? I don't need a favour, exactly, but I do need someone to take me seriously and listen to me until I can explain myself properly. Can you help me?"

The goblin's eyebrows rose. "What have you to say to me, Mr Potter?"

Harry grimaced. "That's the problem - I don't dare breathe a word of it here, with so many people around. I need to talk to Elder, in private."

Griphook actually flinched at that. "Mr Potter, you don't begin to understand what you have asked of me. I myself have never met Elder in person, and it is very rare for any human at all to do so."

Harry nodded. "I know. I mean, I know the general stuff. I'm not here on a whim, I promise you. I have the key to protecting your society and mine from a terrible danger, but I need your help. I swear to you that I mean no harm to the Goblin Nation or to any individual goblins. I'll even hand over my wand for safekeeping, if you like."

Griphook gave the young human an appraising look. "You would trust me so far, wizard?"

Harry nodded. "I would."

Griphook left his desk, gesturing curtly for Harry to follow him. They walked through a small doorway - Harry had to duck - and down a richly-carpeted corridor. Two imposing warriors, heavily armed and large even by human standards, stood near a heavily reinforced door. Griphook spoke at length to one of them, gesturing several times towards Harry, before the guards opened the door and allowed them to pass.

Through the door was another richly-carpeted corridor, with several more armed guards. Griphook spoke urgently to these guards also, and eventually he was allowed to take Harry onwards. Harry, meanwhile, was painfully aware that he could actually die if he messed this up badly enough. The layers of security, even more than Dumbledore's explanations and Griphook's responses, left him feeling quite intimidated.

At the far end of this corridor was a single door, which looked like it had been designed to hold off an army. Griphook pulled down a small lever, which snapped back up as soon as he let it go. Moments later a small panel opened in the door, and Griphook held yet another conversation of which Harry couldn't understand a word. Eventually Griphook stepped away from the door, and there was a series of metallic sounds from the door before it swung open.

Harry found himself in a vast office - not lavishly decorated, but stark and impressive. In the centre was a large desk, behind which sat a single goblin wearing what to Harry looked like fairly ordinary clothes for a goblin. He didn't look up from his work as they entered, nor even as he addressed Griphook.

"You bring a wizard child to me, Griphook?"

Harry noted with surprise that he spoke in English, and wondered just what political subtleties were going over his teenage head.

"Elder," said Griphook respectfully, "this is Harry Potter. He tells me he has a matter of extreme importance to the Goblin Nation, and he swears that he means us no harm."

Elder now raised his head. "What have you to say to me, Harry Potter? Do you bring kind regards from Albus Dumbledore or his Ministry?"

Harry paused, then opted for bluntness. "I don't like Cornelius Fudge or his Ministry, though there are some good people there. I do like Albus Dumbledore, despite the mistakes he's made."

At this the goblin leader leaned forward. "So you're saying that Albus Dumbledore, he of the many titles, has made mistakes?"

Harry shrugged. "Of course. He'd tell you the same himself, no problem. That's not why I'm here, though."

Elder looked skeptical. "Not as Dumbledore's messenger, you mean?"

"No. He knows I'm here, but I speak for myself."

Elder smiled suddenly, as if Harry had passed a test. "Very well. Speak."

Harry smiled back. "You know about Horcruxes, don't you?"

Elder's jaw dropped, but his voice was steady mere moments later. "That knowledge, Mr Potter, is tightly restricted among my people. But yes, I know of Horcruxes."

"Good. Tom Riddle, so-called Lord Voldemort, made seven of them."

Elder flinched, but then controlled himself tightly. He snapped out a series of orders in Gobbledegook, and the guards in the room secured enormous bars across every door. As they did so, he turned back to Harry.

"How exactly do you know this?"

"Uh... Long story. I can prove it, though."

Elder shrugged, and gestured for Harry to continue. He did so.

"So far I've destroyed three of them myself, as well as killing Riddle again when Peter Pettigrew brought him back to life."

Elder nodded, face neutral. "So, Sirius Black is indeed innocent. We did well to preserve his vaults, then."

Harry nodded, but chose to leave that conversation for later. He went on.

"Three more of Riddle's Horcruxes are in sealed lead boxes in this satchel."

Elder stared at him. "You brought Horcruxes, not just into Gringotts, but into my office? What madness is this?"

Harry shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry, Elder, but I had no choice. We could destroy these three ourselves if we really had to, but the last one's in the Lestrange vault here at Gringotts. We really do need your help."

Elder turned to one of the guards and said something in Gobbledegook. That guard and another one slipped out a side door, and Elder turned back to Harry.

"I can see your reasoning, wizard, and at least you took precautions - I know the foul devices must be properly secured, or else our security would have alerted us the moment you entered Gringotts. We do share your desire to destroy all remnant of the one called Voldemort. What would you have us do?"

Harry smiled. "Thank you. Um... the main thing is, we want to destroy the Horcruxes without destroying the objects themselves - they're all priceless historical artifacts. Well, that, and we need the one from the Lestrange vault."

Elder nodded. "We do indeed have such a procedure, though very few of us now living can remember the last time it was used. May I ask, what were the forms of the three Horcruxes which you have so far destroyed?"

Harry nodded. "There was a diary, the diary of the teenage Tom Riddle. It possessed a student when I was in my second year - nearly killed her, in the end. I stabbed it with a Basilisk fang - happened to have one lying around, so to speak."

"Do not joke with me, Mr Potter."

"I'm not. I'll tell you the full story later, and actually we probably should do something with whatever's left of the Basilisk's body, but for now that's not the point. I really did have a fresh Basilisk fang handy, and I used it."

Elder nodded reluctantly, and Harry went on.

"Another one was in my scar, which still makes me feel dirty. Technically Voldemort destroyed that one himself, when he hit me with the Killing Curse a few days ago. Um, again. There must have been something else weird going on with that one if your security never noticed it before, but that's not really the point right now."

He paused, and Elder passed him a glass of water. He took it with a grateful smile, and drank deeply before continuing.

"The third one, just after the scar, was Voldemort's snake Nagini. The snake I just killed - fired a Blasting Curse at its head. No more snake, no more Horcrux."

Elder stood from his desk, stepped back a pace, and then bowed wordlessly to Harry. He sat down again, and looked intently at the young man before him.

"Some day you will better understand what I just did, Harry Potter, and why I did it. For now, know that you have the respect of the Goblin Nation. We will not be your lapdogs, as wizards so often seem to desire, but we will fight alongside you when we must. Now, leave those three Horcruxes in your bag, but please tell me their forms, and that of the one in the Lestrange vault."

Harry ran his hands through his hair, suddenly reminded of how much sleep he hadn't had. "The Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, which is supposed to make the wearer smarter - that's in my bag. A locket once owned by Salazar Slytherin, and possibly made by him - also in my bag. A ring, passed down through the Gaunt family - there's something special about its stone, but that's about all I know so far. That's also in my bag - we recovered it this morning. Um, and the one in the Lestrange vault is the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff - I've no idea if it has any special powers."

The missing guards returned at this point, one of them carrying a rather large dull metal casket which appeared to have been welded shut. Harry noticed that both of those guards seemed rather pale and unsteady. They reported briefly to Elder in Gobbledegook, who then turned back to Harry.

"These things should not exist. Come with us, and we will deal with them immediately."

Harry smiled. "Brilliant."


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Cleansing

**A/N: **"dudak'ak" is a reference to the drudak'ak, in Terry Pratchett's Discworld series. The colours for the reservoir network are based on the Planckian locus for black-body radiation.

**Chapter Sixteen: Cleansing**

Elder smiled. "Of course, 'immediately' actually means we might start in half an hour if all goes well. This is, after all, not a trivial task."

Harry nodded. "Of course."

Elder gave a fairly brief order to one of the guards, once more in Gobbledegook. That guard left the room through one of the side doors, and Elder turned back to Harry.

"I am having food brought for you, Mr Potter - you are hungry by now, are you not?"

Harry smiled broadly. "That would be wonderful, thank you. It's... um, been a long day, let's put it that way."

"I imagine it has, yes. Now, I must make arrangements."

Elder strode across the room, and laid his hand on a featureless silver panel set into the wall. "Cairo," he said calmly.

"Cairo, Bill Weasley" said the silver panel back to him, in what sounded awfully like Bill Weasley's voice. Harry's jaw dropped.

"Cursebreaker Weasley," said Elder, "this is Elder in London. How soon can you have your team in my office, ready to work? The matter is urgent."

Bill sounded more than a little surprised, but his voice remained steady and confident. "Maybe ten minutes if I'm lucky, twenty if not? Call it fifteen, sir. What equipment should we bring?"

"Whatever you would carry if this were a major find and you had no idea of the protections on it. There's a reason I'm calling in our best teams from all around the world for this one."

"Understood, sir. We'll bring everything."

"Excellent. I shall expect you shortly, Cursebreaker."

Elder proceeded to issue similar instructions to representatives in a number of other places around the world, accepting only those who promised to arrive within the half-hour.

The guard returned with food, which Harry eyed with curiosity as well as longing. It turned out to be thinly-sliced meat of some sort, served with a lightly spiced flatbread. Harry was briefly surprised to find it so normal, before he realised that of course the goblins would be trying to make him feel comfortable right now. He accepted with thanks, and started eating. He still had no idea about goblin tastes in food, but this meal tasted delicious to a hungry Muggle-raised wizard.

* * *

Bill's team was the first to arrive - slightly less than ten minutes after Bill first answered the call, although Harry didn't know that. Bill entered the room confidently, glancing around rapidly to assess the situation, and then stopped short when he saw Harry.

"Harry?"

Harry nodded and smiled - he had always liked Bill.

"The very same," he said cheerfully. "Sort of a long story why I'm here, but just go along with it for now - I'll explain later."

Bill nodded uncertainly, then turned to Elder.

"Cursebreaker Weasley," said Elder, "thank you for coming so promptly. Mr Potter is both our guest and our ally - do not imagine you are dealing with your brother's friend today."

Bill's eyebrows shot up, and he paused a moment before answering. "Understood, sir. What do I need to know?" The three people clustered behind him leaned forward.

"Your appetite for learning is well-known, Cursebreaker. Tell me, what do you know about Horcruxes?"

Bill looked thoughtful. "Dark magic, very Dark actually, to tie a wizard to this world by splitting his soul and storing part of it in an object. Requires a murder to create, plus some details that I'm still not quite clear on. Assorted magical defences and traps, which seem to be a bit different each time, and quite difficult to destroy. First known example by Herpo the Foul in Ancient Greece, last known example... Melania Fenton, wasn't it? Mid-19th century?"

Elder smiled. "Your reputation is well-earned, Cursebreaker Weasley. In truth we have destroyed the Horcruxes of several maimed individuals since Ms Fenton, but it is highly impressive that you know even so much."

He turned to a guard and conferred briefly in Gobbledegook, before issuing an unmistakable order. The guard ran around the perimeter of the room, ensuring that all doors were shut and locked. When this was done he caught Elder's eye and nodded.

Elder sprang nimbly onto his desk, and turned to face the crowd of perhaps twenty.

"Welcome to London. You here are four of the best teams Gringotts has, both cursebreaking and warding. Today we are cleansing Horcruxes - Cursebreaker Weasley, explain what Horcruxes are and why any sane person should treat them with caution."

Bill stepped forward, seeming only slightly surprised, and gave a concise explanation before returning to his team. Elder smiled briefly, then turned his attention to the group at large.

"A predecessor of mine destroyed two Horcruxes early in the twentieth century, both made by the same person. I will not name the person or the year, but I will say this: as far as Gringotts is aware, that was the only person ever to create more than one Horcrux. Until now."

Elder smiled grimly as his audience leaned forward.  
"Tom Riddle, the so-called Lord Voldemort, created seven Horcruxes."

There was a collective gasp, and Elder bent to pick up a dull metal box as he continued speaking.

"Mr Potter here has destroyed three of those Horcruxes. The bag on his shoulder contains another three. The final Horcrux, located with Mr Potter's help, is in this box. And Mr Potter, it should be noted, has now killed Tom Riddle twice in person - once in 1981, and once a few days ago.

"Far beneath my feet there is a cavern, sealed against all magical interference. There we shall cleanse these objects of their taint."

He jumped lightly from the desk, and strode to the door through which Harry and Griphook had originally entered. He slid a panel aside, and said something in Gobbledegook to the guards outside. Sliding the panel back into place, he turned back towards his desk.

"Stand well clear of the desk," he said, pressing his back against the nearest wall. The warders, cursebreakers and guards (plus Harry) quickly scattered to the walls.

Elder raised his hands and began to chant, in a language that didn't sound familiar to Harry - he was fairly sure it wasn't Gobbledegook, and it certainly wasn't English. Four steel bars descended rapidly from the ceiling, and fused with the metal circles that Harry vaguely remembered seeing set into the corners of the desk. The desk rose smoothly to the ceiling, revealing an unpromisingly blank expanse of glossy white stone. Elder stopped chanting when the desk reached the ceiling, and instead snapped a single command in what might or might not have been Gobbledegook (at least as far as Harry could tell). A large circle of stone was suddenly outlined by a narrow gap all the way around. Elder stepped into this circle, and gestured for everyone else to do likewise.

When everyone was in the circle and well clear of the edges, Elder snapped out another command. The gap itself rose smoothly, surrounding the group with a semi-transparent black cylindrical shell. Another command, and the stone disc and its cylindrical shell sank smoothly beneath the floor. They descended in silence for some time, unpolished rock pressing in on all sides, until the circle above them had shrunk to almost nothing. Harry guessed they had descended a few hundred metres, though he had no real way of knowing. At last they stopped, the cylindrical barrier disappeared abruptly, and several of the guards held up glowing orbs in their hands.

Elder and one of the guards led the way off the platform, into a moderately-sized chamber with a high domed ceiling. They led the party down a stone spiral staircase, which itself seemed to go down quite some distance in a narrow shaft before descending into a chamber much like the one above. Harry noted that, unlike that chamber, this one had a very low ceiling by human standards - Bill Weasley didn't quite have to duck, but it was a close thing. They walked across onto a platform nearly identical to the one above, except that this platform had five thick steel bars spaced around its edge. These rose, not to the ceiling as such, but to individual rollers around which they seemed to be bent. Harry must have allowed his confusion to show, because Elder turned to him as they walked onto the platform.

"These bars, cables really, are of course Goblin steel. It would be wasteful to use such a substance only for war. There is an enchantment laid upon those rollers, allowing the steel to bend as it runs through. This platform will descend to the floor of the cavern below, and then return to seal it once more. The platform above is similar, but its cables are underneath."

Harry nodded. "That sounds more like Muggle engineering than anything I've seen in the Wizarding world."

Elder laughed. "We are not stupid, Mr Potter. We have observed the Muggle world for many centuries, learning and adapting what is useful to us. Wizarding Britain has done no such thing, as you have seen. Wizards see only a small part of our world, and we have maintained that part unchanged for centuries now."

He turned from Harry and spoke another command, and the platform began to descend into featureless darkness as another cylindrical shell rose up to protect them - Harry could see neither floor nor walls beyond, though for a few seconds he could at least see the ceiling above them. He gave up and turned back to Elder, who continued speaking.

"Understand, Mr Potter, these mechanisms are centuries old. They have lain unused, untouched, for many decades now. And yet they work, instantly, flawlessly. This is Goblin engineering, Mr Potter, but these platforms barely hint at what we can build now. And the wizards believe we are angry because they pretend to deny us wands! Tell me, did that interminable ghost teach you the endless series of Goblin Rebellions?"

Harry nodded, and Elder continued as they descended through the featureless darkness.  
"The last true Goblin Rebellion in Britain was in the sixth century AD, by the modern calendar. Wizarding Britain, which you will note is not the same thing as Magical Britain, had been greatly weakened by the fall of the Roman Empire and the piecemeal invasions by many other peoples once the Romans could no longer protect us. Fodrod the Foolish, as he is now known, led the fledgling Goblin Nation in an attempt to establish self-rule. He failed. The Clans, forerunners of the Wizengamot and ultimately of the Ministry, crushed that rebellion with shocking ease. Fodrod was killed in battle, along with most of those who followed him.

"After that defeat, the more warlike among us were sharply curbed. We learned an important lesson, Mr Potter, and we remember it still. Although he is remembered so unkindly, in truth Fodrod created the Goblin Nation. Our defeat and near-destruction under his leadership serves us even now as our founding myth, and at the time the terror of that total defeat created a nation where previously there were only clans. We became a nation because for the first time we thought of ourselves as a single people, 'the Goblins.' The old Clans were gone, reduced to crippled husks of what they once had been. The Nation rose from the rubble, and from the very start we knew we could never fight the wizards directly. Dozens have led the Nation since Fodrod, and not one has been fool enough to wage war against the wizards. The so-called Goblin Rebellions were never authorised by any of my predecessors."

Elder paused as the platform finally reached the cavern floor. He led the party off the stone disc, which turned out to be about half a metre thick, and then he banished it upwards with a word. Another word, this one shouted shockingly loud, and the entire vast chamber was lit by a steady white light. The chamber seemed to be a hemisphere with a radius of nearly a kilometre - even having known it was huge, Harry was impressed.

Elder gave a series of orders, now in English, and people scattered to do his bidding. Three of the four teams, including Bill's, began to prepare an elaborate seal on the floor just beside where the platform had rested. The other team followed Elder, Harry and the few goblin guards, as they walked to a raised platform perhaps fifty metres away from the centre. There the group sat down on small stone pillars which appeared to have been placed there for that purpose, as the team began setting up wards around the platform.

"You understand, Mr Potter," said Elder, "that you and I must both be protected. We are here as a courtesy only, both of us - those teams are the best Gringotts has, and in this chamber they have authority even over me."

Harry nodded. "Who has authority over them, then? Who's actually in charge right now?"

Elder smiled. "Cursebreaker Weasley. I knew of him, but had never met him before today - this is why I tested him, as you saw. He impressed me."

Harry nodded. "Fair enough. I always liked Bill. Um... You were saying, about the Goblin Rebellions?"

"So-called 'Goblin Rebellions', yes. Most were under the leadership of Deklen the Weak, as he is now known. We no longer have clans such as we had before Fodrod, but in practice we have groups that work much like them - something like noble houses in the Wizarding world, or even in Muggle Britain in the past. We call them karn'ak. One of these, the Dudak'ak, became very powerful. They believed that we had become strong enough to defeat the wizards, or at least to defend ourselves and win our independence. I cannot be sure whether Deklen could have silenced that faction, because he did not attempt it. Instead he withdrew his own subjects almost completely from any contact with wizards, and allowed the Dudak'ak to wage their own war with Wizarding Britain. I believe he later told the Ministry that he had been overthrown by the Dudak'ak, but in fact he continued to rule the Goblin Nation throughout.

"Had Deklen supported the Dudak'ak in their war against the wizards, we would most likely have won. Had he opposed the Dudak'ak directly, the Goblin Nation would have been destroyed. My people call him weak, but I call him wise. I am a historian, Mr Potter, as well as an engineer and a leader."

Harry nodded slowly. "Um... isn't this all top-secret, though? I can understand that I might be a special case, but what about the cursebreakers and the guards?"

Elder smiled. "Good. You are thinking. On the platform coming down, and again on this platform, I cast a barrier to ensure our privacy."

"Ah. Good. Um... If you don't mind me asking, why are you helping me?"

Elder paused, staring thoughtfully at the strange half-grown human before him. Finally he nodded decisively.  
"I shall be blunt with you, Mr Potter - I believe that is your preference, and I am in any case wholly committed to your success already.

"You will one day rule Wizarding Britain and perhaps beyond, with or without my help - that much is all but certain. I hope I can help you to be a good ruler, and in particular I hope you will treat my Nation well."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense - thanks for telling me. Um... So how did your people end up with this whole secret civilisation?"

Elder grinned. "Not easy to distract, are you? OK, so... Under Deklen we had nearly a century of isolation from Wizarding Britain. He spent a tremendous amount of gold on watching and learning from the Muggle world, much more than we had done before then, and even after he died we continued. Anyway, by the time the Dudak'ak finally collapsed, we'd advanced far beyond anything Wizarding Britain would recognise. One of the last things Deklen did before he died was order us to hide our true abilities and present the same old image to the wizards. Once again, Deklen was uncommonly wise. His successors, including me, have thus far been wise enough to continue as he ordered. If you become the ruler I hope you will, then we can end this separation and finally have true peace between goblin and wizard. This is why I gamble my Nation on you, Harry Potter."

Harry nodded soberly. "I'll try, Elder. I promise you I'll try. Um... Actually, this is really weird now that I stop to think about it - before today, it never would have occurred to me that I might ever be Minister or anything."

"Mr Potter, your entire life until very recently has been specifically designed and manipulated to make you not think about that sort of thing. I do wonder just how you broke free of those restraints, but clearly you have done so. It may interest you to know that your own affairs account for several of our objections to Albus Dumbledore - we shall discuss those later, when there are fewer than four active Horcruxes in the room."

Harry nodded, and they turned to the distant circle - all four teams were now there, the fourth having finished warding the observation platform some time ago. Elder tapped an area of metal set into the column on which he sat, and a moment later the voice of Bill Weasley came through.

"It's going well so far, Elder. Aleska and I have had to design a few custom rune arrays pretty quickly, but we're pretty sure it's solid - our teams are building it now. Basic structure's a pentacle, including the inner pentagon. Four of the points, the triangles that is, will have Horcruxes in them - the fifth one will have our target, which is a lump of silver with a few runes on it. The rune array built into the pentacle will rip the soul fragments out of the current Horcruxes and channel them into the silver, turning it into a super-Horcrux. Then we'll pull out the former Horcruxes and push that lump into the pentagon, where another set of runes will destroy it with Fiendfyre. The principles are simple enough - the problems are power and safety, and of course the details. Tim and Andra are setting up the strongest containment ward I've ever even heard of, as a circle touching all five points of the pentacle, and they're putting another one just outside it and powering that from the outside. Actually there are power reservoirs and control points all over the place - this is one hell of a complex setup - but that's the bones of it."

Elder smiled fondly. "Thank you, Cursebreaker Weasley. How soon do you expect to be ready, and what do you need from us?"

Bill didn't even hesitate. "Only a few minutes more before we start charging up the rune arrays, and we should see fireworks not long after that. You and Harry do still have all four Horcruxes, and honestly we could do with some help charging the arrays - I hear Harry's power is pretty impressive these days. I'll let you know when we're ready for you - no sense taking any extra risks before then."

"Very well, Cursebreaker. Carry on."

* * *

It was in fact quite a few minutes later that Bill's voice came through again.  
"Elder? Sorry about the delay - Tim noticed a potential cascading failure between the inner ward and the outer pentacle array, so we had to redesign a fair bit of it. It should all be fine now, and we're ready for the power and then the Horcruxes."

Elder and Harry slipped out of their own protective bubble, leaving their guards behind, and walked over to the working area. As they approached, Bill intercepted them.

"OK, I need you two to be very careful - you're the only non-specialists on the site, and this is seriously dangerous. Forget the Horcruxes for now - one mistake at the wrong time, and these runesets could kill us all instantly."

Elder and Harry both nodded, and Elder spoke. "It may comfort you to know that any conceivable mishap would be contained by this chamber - this white light is useful in itself, but it's just a side effect of the ward that I activated when we came down here. I know of very few things which could overpower that ward, and they are all in Muggle hands."

Bill seemed quite surprised by this, but didn't pursue it. "That is reassuring, yes. Obviously I don't want to kill myself and everyone else down here, but even that is less scary than destroying Gringotts entirely."

Elder nodded. "And that, Cursebreaker Weasley, is exactly why this cavern exists. Strictly speaking I shouldn't even be here, but the lure of knowledge is too great."

Bill nodded, then turned to Harry and gestured towards a distinctive pattern of runes on the floor. "Alright Harry, this is a basic energy reservoir - fairly simple, but extremely useful and more than a little bit terrifying once it's charged. In this case it's part of a network - devil of a thing to design and build, but once it's up and running it's actually quite a bit safer than a single reservoir cluster. This one's already set up and partially charged - see the faint red tinge in the centre - so any power you put into it will automatically flow evenly into all 25 reservoirs. Once the power level starts getting up, the paths between them will start to glow also - never ever put any part of your body above a glowing path, even for an instant. Um... I don't know how much power you can channel these days, but just in case... The aim is to make the whole thing glow a bright white if we can, though honestly we'll struggle to make a solid orange on a network this big with so few wands. Anyway, if you start to see even a hint of blue in it, stop immediately. I'll yell out of I see that, of course. Um, so, go ahead and channel magic into the array - doesn't really matter what spell you use, as long as it hits somewhere inside that pattern."

Harry nodded. He smiled faintly as he raised his wand, deliberately drawing in as much magic as he could. He felt it filling him, felt the pressure in every part of him. This time he didn't dump it all in an instant, but instead let a trickle flow through his wand and into the pattern on the floor. He didn't cast a spell, didn't try to shape the magic at all - he just let it flow, a thin trickle that glowed faintly white through the air. When he was sure that was steady, he left it running while he concentrated on pulling more magical energy into himself to replace what was flowing out. He spent several minutes mastering this, completely oblivious to his surroundings as Elder and the humans all stared at him. They all knew magic didn't work like this, but no one had mentioned that to Harry.

Eventually satisfied that the flow was stable, Harry started to increase it slowly. He knew that channeling a lot of energy very fast would exhaust him, but he had no idea what the limit was for that. Gradually the trickle became a torrent, a solid white bar connecting his wand to the ground, and still he felt almost no strain. He wondered absently, correctly, whether there was more magic available down here than in most places above ground.

* * *

"Stop! Harry, stop!"

Harry twitched violently, finally noticing Bill yelling in his ear, and the white bar vanished abruptly. He blinked and looked around.

The reservoir network was clearly visible now, a vast branching structure glowing a brilliant white. Now that Harry looked for it, he could see the bluish tinge that Bill had warned him about. Looking around, it felt like the cavern's lighting had dimmed quite a bit, but he couldn't be sure.

Everyone else was staring at him by now, but it was Bill who eventually broke the silence.

"Um... Harry? You were draining the cavern's wards."

Harry looked down at his feet. "Sorry."

"What? No, Harry, that's amazing! That's not supposed to be possible! I mean, we will have to figure out how to get that ward back up to full strength, but this is really exciting. If you can just shift magical energy around at will, then whole classes of unbreakable wards suddenly aren't unbreakable anymore. Er... Technical term, 'unbreakable' - it just means there's no way to beat them except to pour raw power in until they blow. And that's usually a bad thing, unless you've some very good defences set up against the backlash. Alright, sorry, cursebreaker getting a bit carried away here. I will want to talk to you later, probably on a stage with every cursebreaker I know listening to us. Anyway, now's a good time to give me the Horcruxes. One at a time, I mean. Oh, and don't even think about going anywhere near that dome - other than me and whatever I'm physically touching, that dome will stop absolutely anything. I mean, it's designed to stop Fiendfyre."

Elder, standing forgotten near Harry, handed over the first box. Bill carried it through the faintly-visible dome of the two concentric wards, stepping very carefully, avoiding the few brightly-glowing paths inside the dome and stopping only when he was standing inside one of the triangles. He very carefully unsealed the box. He reached in and withdrew an ornate golden goblet, which he set carefully in the centre of the triangle. Again stepping very carefully, he made his way back to where Harry and Elder stood outside the dome. This time he took a box from Harry, and so the process repeated until all four Horcruxes were in place. The lump of silver, Harry noticed now, was already in place in the fifth triangle.

After placing the last Horcrux, Bill carefully tapped his wand on a number of the runes in the pentacle. He then walked back out of the ward, rather more rapidly this time.

"It's live," he said quietly as he reached relative safety. He leaned down and touched the tip of his wand to a rune just outside the outer circle, scrupulously keeping his body well clear. Suddenly the outer shield was far more opaque, shining rather a beautiful deep green. They could faintly see the inner ward darken a few seconds later, but by then Bill was herding everyone away from the area.

"Come on, move, all of you - I want everyone on that platform in the next three and a half minutes, and please understand that that time is not arbitrary."

They hurried then, of course, and were all on the platform well within the time. Bill stood and stared at the bright green lump in the middle distance. Every few seconds he checked his watch, a simple mechanical model that looked Muggle to Harry. After a time he glanced up at Harry.

"First stage should start in a few seconds - that's the Horcrux transfer... Yep, there it goes."

The green dome brightened slightly.

"That's good," said Bill, "that means the soul fragments have made the inner ward fade slightly. That green should go back to normal in a moment."

The green did so. Bill smiled, then raised his voice to include the entire group.  
"Right, that should mean the Horcrux transfer succeeded. The whole thing should be pretty safe right now, at least from outside the wards. Everyone stay behind me, and don't even think about stepping over a glowing path or so much as touching that dome."

He walked briskly across the cavern, trailed by everyone else. Up close, they could see the pentacle inside the dome. Bill knelt just outside the dome, and reached carefully through the two barriers to tap his wand on a specific point in the floor. A few seconds later, as he was stepping back away from the dome, all four of the (former?) Horcruxes began sliding smoothly outward. A few seconds later again, and they had stopped a metre beyond the wards. Bill walked around and picked them up, first testing each one with a twitch of his wand. He offered them to Harry, who looked uncertain for a moment before tucking the three smaller items into different pockets and holding Hufflepuff's Cup.

Bill carefully activated another control rune. The silver lump, now heavily corroded and barely visible through the two wards, slid into the central pentagon. One final control rune, and he stepped back a few paces.  
"In about thirty seconds there'll be Fiendfyre destroying a quadruple-Horcrux inside that pentagon. It should be completely contained, but I'm going to stand back a few metres anyway."

When the Fiendfyre did appear, the inside of the dome suddenly became a lot clearer.

"Inner shield's gone," said Bill. "Sorry, Tim - looks like we still didn't fix that. Tim, Andra, good work on the outer ward."

One of the other men, Andra as it turned out, shrugged casually as animals of cursed fire fought animal-shaped shadows inside the protective dome. "That shield's running off a 25-node res network, charged 'til it hums - what did you expect?"

A few seconds later, Aleska raised a hand slightly.  
"Uh... Bill? I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think the Fiendfyre's losing."

Bill nodded grimly.  
"Thanks, Aleska. I can't tap the outer ward, no matter how much spare power it might have - Sparkie'd rip my head off. Um..."

He bent down and sketched a pattern on the floor - Harry thought he recognised it as a magical reservoir.

"Harry?" he said. "I want you to start trickling power into this - I'll tell you when to send more or less."

Harry nodded, and started with the thinnest trickle he could hold steady. The pattern on the floor became very faintly brighter than the surrounding stone, but showed no colour change yet.

Bill tapped a particular rune with his wand, then reached gingerly through the remaining ward to tap a particular rune on the pentacle.

"Alright Harry," he said, "give me some more power."

Harry obliged. The pattern began to glow a dull red, and then that colour spread to a path through the barrier. As Harry poured in more power, the Fiendfyre animals inside the dome became larger, brighter and (seemingly) more vicious. The balance of the battle shifted quite suddenly, and soon the shadowy shapes were being torn apart. As each fragment reached the ward, the impact sounded like an enormous gong being struck. Many of the fragments now stayed near the ward itself, but tendrils of Fiendfyre sought them out and consumed them. At last there were no more fragments, and gradually the Fiendfyre was reined in and then dismissed entirely. Bill stepped inside the dome and inspected everything carefully, and only then did he finally dismiss the green dome.

The four team leaders talked briefly, in a jargon so dense that Harry could make nothing of it, and then Bill sketched a simple rune array on the polished stone floor.

"That should do it," he said, tapping his wand first on one of the earlier magic reservoirs and then on his new array. "This array will feed power into the network for the cavern ward."

He muttered something and twitched his wand, and a broad path lit up brilliant white between the reservoir node and the transfer array. The transfer array never grew any brighter, but the walls of the cavern gradually did. The reservoir network, all 25 nodes and the paths between them, gradually faded as the network faded through a range of colours that looked almost (but not quite) like the colours of a rainbow.

* * *

Back up in Elder's office, the endlessly-surprising goblin held Harry back but dismissed everyone else including his office guards.

"I shall say no more today, Mr Potter, but please remember that you have common cause with the goblins of Gringotts."

Harry nodded. "I will, Elder. Thank you."

"And, of course, please do not reveal our secrets."

Harry winced. "Um... Can I tell my best friends, if they don't tell anyone? I've had to keep a lot of secrets from them lately, and I was really looking forward to telling them everything now that things are mostly sorted out."

Elder ran both hands through his sparse hair. "Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, yes?"

"Um, yes. How do you know that?"

"I told you, Mr Potter - we pay attention, and you are important."

Harry nodded, still a little disturbed. "So, can I tell them?"

"Yes, you may tell them. I will not act to drive your friends from you, Mr Potter, but I do ask once more that you be careful."

"Of course, Elder."


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Debrief

**Chapter Seventeen: Debrief**

"Carob," said Harry quietly, and the enormous stone gargoyles lumbered grudgingly aside to let him pass. He stepped onto the stone staircase, and was somehow carried upward on the rotating helix. As he reached the top, the door swung open and he walked straight into Albus Dumbledore's office.

"What progress?" asked the Headmaster eagerly.

Harry grinned and laid the four ex-Horcruxes side by side on the old man's desk.  
"No more Horcruxes."

"May I ask after the process employed in their purification?"

Harry nodded. "A star shape and lots of runes, in a huge chamber with some very strong protections."

Albus nodded. "Can you tell me how it is that they were able to preserve the items intact?"

"They transferred the soul fragments to a lump of metal, then destroyed that with Fiendfyre after they'd given these back to me."

Albus looked intrigued. "An object with four soul fragments is completely new in this world, and before today I knew of no way to transfer such a fragment from one object to another. Tell me, who wielded the Fiendfyre?"

Harry shrugged. "No one. It was created by runes - it was inside the shield, and we were all outside."

Beyond this Harry pled ignorance of any and all details about the procedure - the only useful information he conceded was that Bill Weasley had indeed been involved. Soon enough Albus noticed the pattern and changed tack somewhat.

"What do you feel you learned at Gringotts, Harry?"

Harry paused. "Respect, Headmaster. I learned a great deal of respect for the Goblins. They actually took safety seriously, and they sorted this out very efficiently. I was impressed."

Dumbledore nodded.  
"Now that we have a little more time, Harry... Are you feeling alright, after everything you've had to do lately?"

Harry nodded slowly, then smiled. "I wouldn't turn down a good night's sleep, but other than that I feel fantastic. Honestly, it's such a relief to know that he's not coming back now. That pretty much removes all the things that have made my life difficult so far, doesn't it? No more Dark Lord hanging over me, ever, no more Death Eaters trying to kill me, and above all no need to go back to the bloody Dursleys ever again. Plus I know that I've just saved Magical Britain from a terrible Dark Lord and his followers, even if they don't know it. Maybe I'm being a bit arrogant, but I really do feel good about that."

Dumbledore beamed. "And rightly so, Harry, rightly so! In truth you are a hero, and I am immensely proud of you."

Harry blushed and looked down, and after a moment Dumbledore went on.  
"Have you thought about what comes next, Harry?"

He shrugged yet again.  
"How should I know, sir? I suppose I can actually study and enjoy myself now, without having to worry about nearly getting killed every year. That'll be nice. Um... Well, actually, we do also have to deal with the Death Eaters. They're standing trial quite soon, aren't they?"

Dumbledore nodded.  
"Starting tomorrow, yes. Since classes have all but finished for the year, I may be able to make special arrangements there if you decide that you wish to attend the trials."

Harry looked uncertain.  
"Um... Maybe?. What about Crouch and the others?"

Dumbledore smiled.  
"While you were at Gringotts, Fawkes and I paid a visit to Malfoy Manor. Barty Crouch Jr is now in the Ministry's hands, along with Crabbe and Goyle Sr. I believe that not a single Death Eater remains at large."

"Except for Snape, you mean."

Dumbledore winced.  
"Severus Snape proved his true loyalties during the last war, Mr Potter. He stood trial then, and to my knowledge he has committed no crime since then."

Harry looked skeptical at that, but let it drop.  
"Um... Strange question, but what happened to Mrs Malfoy? I mean, wasn't she at Malfoy Manor all this time?"

"Under Veritaserum, Crouch told us that Narcissa was locked in some kind of untouchable stasis in a basement at Malfoy Manor. I retrieved her and revived her, and she appears to be unharmed. We chatted only briefly, but she did tell me it was Lucius who put her under the spell, for her own protection. I myself had some difficulty reversing it; we may be assured that the Death Eaters had no opportunity to harm her."

Dumbledore paused. "That's a remarkably mature question, Harry. What prompted you to ask it?"

Harry shrugged. "Draco Malfoy. I don't know what he'd do if he lost both his parents, but I needed to know before he did."

Dumbledore seemed impressed by this, but didn't comment.

"Professor," said Harry eventually, "what influence do I have in those trials?"

Dumbledore raised a bushy eyebrow.  
"Why do you ask?"

"Um... Well, I've been thinking about Dementors. They shouldn't exist. They really, really, shouldn't exist. I... I really don't want to send idiots like Crabbe and Goyle to Azkaban. Actually I don't want anyone to be in Azkaban."

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly.  
"What would you have us do with Crouch?"

"Kill him."

The old man fell back, appalled.  
"Murder in cold blood, Harry? I'd not have thought it of you!"

Harry rolled his eyes.  
"No, Headmaster - not murder. Execution. Hasn't he done enough to warrant that?"

Dumbledore started to say something, but fell silent before Harry could make out any words. After another pause, Harry went on.  
"I don't think there's any way we could ever let Crouch walk free - it wouldn't be safe. So if we care about keeping people safe, then either we lock him up for the rest of his life or we just execute him now. And if our prison is full of Dementors, then I don't know why you're more horrified by the second option."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "Right now, Harry, you have a great deal of political capital. If I were to bring you to the beginning of the first trial tomorrow morning, what would you want to say to the Wizengamot?"

Harry paused for quite some time, making sure his thoughts were clear before he spoke.  
"Perhaps it's naive of me, Professor, but I think there's a pretty sharp divide in the Death Eaters. On one side are the terrifying fanatics and sadists - Crouch, Bellatrix Lestrange, the Carrow twins, and maybe a few others. On the other side are the ones who are probably quite glad that Voldemort's dead now - Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, and probably most of the others. I think any Death Eater who can take Veritaserum and say they're glad Voldemort's gone... I just don't think there's any point putting those people in jail for being Death Eaters, or keeping them there. Check if they still want to go around hurting people for fun, of course, but other than that I think we should let them go."

Dumbledore was staring at the bizarre boy in front of him.  
"You don't want Lucius Malfoy to pay, for all he's done to you?"

The faint smile fell from Harry's face. "Headmaster, what do you think Draco will do if we take away his father? Take away the Malfoys' political power and most of their money, of course - I'm not stupid - but I really don't see much point locking Lucius Malfoy up. I don't think he's a danger to anyone."

Dumbledore frowned slightly.  
"Crabbe? Goyle? Snape?"

Harry sighed.  
"Crabbe and Goyle, Senior or Junior, are just brainless muscle who do what they're told. In a proper world, they're harmless. On a related note, _Headmaster_, it's ultimately your fault that the younger Crabbe and Goyle have been such dangers to me and my friends. Draco Malfoy should never have been allowed to behave the way he has, and the same goes double for his henchmen."

Dumbledore's face remained impassive, controlled.  
"Is the same not equally true of yourself, Mr Potter, and _your_ friends? I seem to recall interceding on _your_ behalf a number of times, rather like Professor Snape has for young Mr Malfoy and his friends."

Harry growled.  
"_Yes_, Headmaster! I should never have been dealing with that sort of a threat in the first place - if I hadn't had to, then of course I should have been held to the same standards I'm talking about. And don't even start on those madcap adventures I seem to have had every year so far - they all go back to you or Voldemort, sometimes both."

Dumbledore seemed somehow to shrink into himself, looking suddenly very old.  
"Forgive an old man his follies, Harry. You cannot know the burdens I have carried - indeed you should not know - but still I am deeply sorry for all that you have suffered from my decisions."

Harry nodded slowly.  
"I understand, Professor. And you did start treating me like a real person recently, and I really do appreciate that. I'm... Well, I still have my issues with you, but just so you know, I am on your side."

"Thank you, Harry."

* * *

He was a bit late, in the end, but Harry Potter did indeed make it to lunch in the Great Hall that day. To his friends he seemed to appear out of nowhere, slipping into a seat beside Hermione.

"Harry!" said Hermione. "Are you alright? What's happened? Can you tell us yet?"

Harry half-turned in his seat to hug Hermione. His face showed exhaustion, but still he smiled.  
"Hi, Hermione."

After a few seconds he let go of Hermione and turned to face Ron across the table.  
"Everything's fine, and I can tell you almost everything now. Not here, though. Let's find an empty classroom after lunch, and I'll see how much I can tell you before I fall asleep."

Hermione looked sharply at him, but simply nodded. Technically they still had classes, but the Express was leaving in a few days' time - there wasn't any actual teaching happening. Even Hermione was willing to skip those classes for something like this.

Ron and Hermione chatted aimlessly as they ate - Harry was vaguely aware that they didn't seem to be bickering at all today. Harry, for his part, said nothing as he ate steadily. Ron and Hermione glanced worriedly at him from time to time, but let him be for now.

* * *

Harry was still eating when the plates disappeared from the tables. He finished his last mouthful of food, then stood up and headed out of the Great Hall with no more than a brief gesture inviting Ron and Hermione to follow him. They did so, and soon found themselves in a dusty old storeroom somewhere on the second floor.

"_Tergeo,_" muttered Harry, sweeping his wand around as the dust fled into a corner.

"_Evanesco,_" and the dust vanished. Hermione stared at Harry - she'd never heard of those spells being used together like this.

"Harry," she said, "where did you learn that?"

Harry shrugged. "Nowhere - it just seemed obvious. I guess I'm learning to be more practical."

They both paused for a moment, and Ron interjected,  
"So what happened? Where have you been, mate? What's going on?"

Harry grinned, lying down carefully on the now-clean floor with his hands behind his head. Almost as an afterthought, he flicked his wand around and muttered under his breath for a few seconds.  
"OK, now we're private. Well, sort of. It'd take a pretty good cursebreaker to get through without me noticing, anyway - that's good enough for me."

Hermione stared. "Where did you learn that, Harry?"

He waved a hand dismissively.  
"Later. I'll explain, though - I promise. Anyway, you both want to know what's been going on...

"First, Voldemort came back. Peter Pettigrew, otherwise known as our old mate Scabbers, did some ritual to give him a body again. I know because I was there - he needed my blood, or at any rate he used it."

"How did he get you there?" demanded Hermione.

"Moody, well actually Barty Crouch Jr using Polyjuice to impersonate Moody, got me on the way back from Herbology and sent me there with a Portkey."

"But Portkeys don't work in Hogwarts! It says so in Hogwarts: A History!"

Harry grinned at her.  
"Of course you'd know that. I think that's why he entered me in the Triwizard in the first place - the only exception to the no-Portkeys thing is if Dumbledore creates it, which he did for the Cup. As soon as he had, he gave it to Crouch/Moody, who changed it and sent me off to a graveyard somewhere."

Harry paused for a moment, and decided that Ron and Hermione probably didn't want to hear about the Killing Curse right now.  
"It got a bit hectic, and I got to see just how many Death Eaters there still were, but then they went away and I woke up with Voldemort and Pettigrew looking away from me. Um... I killed Voldemort."

"You WHAT?!" shrieked Hermione, almost involuntarily. Ron was gaping soundlessly.

"I killed Voldemort. Cut his head off, actually. He was facing the other way, and he thought I was dead - I realised I'd probably never get a better chance, so I took it."

Hermione seemed conflicted. Curiosity won out over horror, though, and she asked,  
"What spell did you use?"

Harry took his hand away from his wand, out of habit.  
"Lacero."

"You killed Voldemort with a Cutting Curse."

Harry nodded. "It was the first thing I thought of. I knew I only had one chance."

Hermione smiled oddly.  
"Tell me, Harry. Since when does the Cutting Curse cut someone's head off? I'm pretty sure that should have just made him bleed a little."

Harry shrugged.  
"I took my time, and put a lot of power into it."

Hermione seemed quite surprised by that, but let it pass. Harry went on.  
"I Stunned Pettigrew and killed Voldemort's snake, and then I passed out - too much magic, apparently. Dumbledore found me and brought me back to Hogwarts - the first thing I remember after the Blasting Curse is Dumbledore waking me up in the Infirmary."

"What about all those Death Eaters?" said Ron.

Harry smiled.  
"All in Ministry custody - Dumbledore and Fawkes brought them in. The trials start tomorrow."

"What's going to happen to them?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. I'm going to ask the Wizengamot to basically let most of them go free, but execute the ones that are still dangerous."

"Are you MENTAL?" said Ron, glaring at his best mate.

Harry noticed that Hermione looked similarly hurt and betrayed, though probably not for the same reason. He sighed.  
"Maybe I am, Ron - maybe I am. All I know is, the future's more important than the past. Voldemort's gone, and honestly I think most of the Death Eaters will be happy to hear that. The war's finished, and I want it to stay finished."

Ron was still staring.

"You really mean that, Harry? You'd really let them go free, let them live with normal people?"

Harry nodded.  
"The ones that don't want to hurt anyone now, yeah. It's the same story for a lot of them really, but let's talk about Lucius Malfoy. If we chuck him in Azkaban, he'll suffer - remember the Dementors last year, Ron? He'd suffer that, but more, and all the time. It'd drive him insane, or kill him, or maybe make him think it'd be a brilliant idea for him to go around killing people once he got out. I don't know, but it wouldn't be good. Meanwhile, what's going to happen to his son? I know you don't like Draco - neither do I, can't stand the smarmy git. But if we destroy Lucius Malfoy, then Draco is our enemy for life. Destroy Lucius Malfoy, and Draco will be a Death Eater or something like it when he grows up. Same with Crabbe and Goyle and their fathers, and all the other kids here whose fathers are Death Eaters. This needs to stop here, or our grandkids will still be fighting and dying over the same old thing. Let them go free, maybe with some sort of suspended sentence hanging over them, and none of that has to happen."

Ron, still glaring, shot back, "And what if they lie? I mean, of course they'll bloody lie - you know that. Nah, never wanted to serve old Snakeface, of course I'm glad he's gone, thank you very much, and then carry on doing whatever they want."

"Veritaserum, Ron. Of course I'm not going to trust Death Eaters not to lie to get out of punishment. But this is the Wizengamot we're talking about - they can use Veritaserum to make sure."

Ron still didn't look happy, but he did shut up. Hermione took that as her cue.

"Harry, capital punishment is barbaric. And can you really live with yourself with that much blood on your hands?"

Harry groaned.  
"Hermione, a few days ago I cut Voldemort's head off. I've had that responsibility hanging over me since I was a baby, even if I didn't know about it until pretty recently. Um... Look, I'd like to have stayed out of all this, and just let the adults take care of it. I never had that choice, though. It was always me - I was the only one who could get rid of Voldemort, and now apparently I'm the only one who can clean up the mess he left behind. I have to do this because, if I don't, who will? And if someone like Bellatrix Lestrange or Barty Crouch Jr is completely mental and still wants to torture and murder people, then what am I supposed to do? What's the Wizengamot supposed to do, or the Ministry? Azkaban is torture - it should be shut down. We're never going to let these people free, so how exactly is killing them cleanly more barbaric than torturing them to death over however many years it takes them to actually die?"

Hermione's voice shook slightly, but she would not back down.  
"Harry, by that policy Sirius would be dead."

"Well, obviously we're not going to punish anyone without a trial - that's wrong with or without the death penalty. Given a trial under Veritaserum, Sirius would never have gone to Azkaban in the first place."

"But what if we get it wrong?" said Hermione.

Harry shrugged.  
"We have Veritaserum, plus ways of reading someone's mind. This isn't the Muggle world, Hermione."

"So the penalty for any crime is either death or nothing?"

"What?" said Harry, "No, of course not! I'm only talking about the Death Eaters that are in the Ministry's cells right now, and the ones in Azkaban. We have prison cells that don't torture anyone, and we can build a whole new prison if we need to - again, one that doesn't torture people."

Hermione still didn't look happy, but she was struggling to think of any more arguments against executing Death Eaters. Instead she changed tack.  
"Hang on, what makes you think the Wizengamot will do what you say?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm the Boy Who Lived, and Dumbledore's giving me a lot of the credit for arresting all these Death Eaters. Madam Bones knows about Voldemort coming back, and knows I killed him - she'll support me. So will Dumbledore, of course. Fudge should support me, because it makes him look good and because he really wants me to like him. Malfoy and his lot, or whoever's voting for them, will support me because it keeps the Death Eaters with power alive and out of prison."

Hermione seemed to struggle with that, but she was nothing if not stubborn.  
"And what about all the people that the Death Eaters hurt? How do you think they're going to feel about this?"

Harry looked thoughtful.  
"Good point, actually. I probably should give an interview tomorrow so I can explain my reasons. Once I've explained it, though, I don't really care too much about anyone who wants their own revenge more than they want their grandkids to live in peace."

Hermione paused.  
"Harry, you do realise that there's no going back after this. By choosing to step into the public eye, you're making yourself a player in an adult game."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I know. Hermione, I know how you feel about authority, but... Honestly, the adults running this country are a bit useless. I can't trust them to get it right, and I have this Boy-Who-Lived thing that means they'll listen to me, so I'm the one that has to do something."

Hermione fell silent, staring thoughtfully at Harry.


	18. Chapter Eighteen: The Quality of Mercy

**Chapter Eighteen: The Quality of Mercy**

"You're a strange young man, Harry."

The strange young man in question was talking privately with Amelia Bones on the morning of the first Death Eater trials. He shrugged.  
"I hear that a lot."

She smiled faintly.  
"I see why Albus always talked about your love as some sort of great power. It takes an unusual person to suffer as you have, and still offer mercy."

Harry shrugged again.  
"I just don't want anyone else to have to go through this."

Amelia paused.  
"That's where we have a problem or two."

"Problems?"

She nodded.  
"First, your plan as it stands is all but guaranteed to throw Magical Britain into chaos. The people will be outraged, the pardoned Death Eaters will be free to do as they please, and frankly you'd be better off if the Death Eaters caught you rather than the mob. Second, the Wizarding justice system really shouldn't have the power to execute people. Look at Sirius Black, for one."

Harry glared at her.  
"Sirius was sent to Azkaban without a trial! If he'd had a fair trial, he wouldn't have had a problem!"

Amelia sighed.  
"We can build safeguards, but we can't guarantee a fair trial for every accused criminal fifty years from now. Imprisonment can at least be cut short. Unjust execution is unrecoverable."

After a long pause, she went on.  
"Harry, you're right about some things. If we throw the book at every Death Eater, they're all going to rot in Azkaban. You're right that we'd be creating another generation of enemies, and that your grandchildren would still be fighting this war. You just need a more realistic plan. Do you really think that a large number of repentant Death Eaters couldn't be talked into forming a new gang and terrorising our society again?"

Harry hung his head.

After another pause, Amelia spoke more kindly.  
"Harry, you should still be proud of what you'd planned. You have the potential to lead this stupid society into a worthwhile future, and that future won't work without mercy."

Harry looked at her sharply, and took a few deliberate breaths before he spoke again.  
"Is this the part where you tell me what I should do?"

Amelia Bones didn't flinch, but even for her it was an effort.  
"No, Harry. I have no wish to rule from behind the scenes. Nor for that matter do I wish to rule at all. That, Harry Potter, is your job - I'm just trying to make sure you don't destroy my country before you have a chance to learn better. There are problems with your plan. You tell me how you will fix them."

Harry closed his eyes and leaned against a wall, thinking furiously. Amelia watched him intently, but let him think in peace.

Finally Harry's eyes snapped open.  
"Thank you, Madam Bones. You've done me a big favour - I won't forget it."

"Have you fixed your plan?" she asked briskly.

He nodded.  
"I have - thanks again for making me think it through properly."

"Aren't you going to tell me your new plan?"

"No. Sorry, but I need to do this myself."

Director Bones smiled more broadly.  
"You're learning. Good luck today, Harry."

"Thank you."

* * *

The esteemed members of the Wizengamot were quite surprised to see Harry Potter, dressed in fine black robes, enter the Hall with Chief Warlock Dumbledore. The old man and the young man, for their part, ignored the susurrus as they sat down behind the Chief Warlock's podium.

"You are quite certain of this?" asked Dumbledore quietly.

"I am," said Harry. "Sir, I have to do this. You know that."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, a strange regret twisting his face. "I know. I only wish that I could spare you this, at least for now. But then, that is no more than the foolish sentiment of an old man. I cannot deny that you have earned the right to make such a choice as this - in truth, I must concede that you have proved yourself rather more thoroughly than almost any other wizard of my acquaintance. If this is your chosen path, then so be it. I can only wish you well, and pledge my support for as far as it may stretch.

"Now, technically you have no standing here in the Hall of the Wizengamot. Even now you sit barely within an unnoticed loophole in the regulations and procedures of this ancient institution. Therefore, I must insist once more that you say nothing until I give you leave."

Harry nodded. "Of course."

Dumbledore rose then, and looked out over the assembled leadership of Magical Britain. He had known these people for many years, had worked variously with or against them on more disputes than he cared to recall. Conscious of Harry's presence behind him, he found himself uncomfortably aware that he did in fact trust Harry more than he trusted the collective lawmakers of Magical Britain. He closed his eyes briefly, then tapped the Rod of the Wizengamot on his podium. All conversations cut off abruptly, and the sea of robes became a sea of upturned faces.

"Welcome, esteemed witches and wizards of the Wizengamot. We meet today to conduct a number of criminal trials. You are all no doubt aware of the attack on Hogwarts at the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament. We have in Ministry custody the perpetrators of that attack - five Death Eaters. We have also a number of other Death Eaters, arrested after rallying to what they believed was a resurrected Lord Voldemort. And finally we have one Peter Pettigrew, notably less dead than previously believed; it was he who rallied the Death Eaters around a golem of some sort in Voldemort's likeness."

There was considerable murmuring among the Wizengamot by now, until Dumbledore overrode it with another click of his rod.  
"Before we begin hearing these cases, however, Harry Potter has something to say. By way of introduction I will say only this: he was of considerable help in capturing these individuals, and I have learned to trust his judgement. Harry?"

Harry stood up slowly, and looked around at the Wizengamot members. He felt oddly calm.  
"The war is finished. We've won. The power is completely in our hands, at least for now. The question on my mind is, will it stay finished? Those Death Eaters in the cells... They almost all managed to stay out of trouble for thirteen years, and I'm pretty sure most of them only showed up the other night because they were scared of what Voldemort would do to them if they didn't. I think only a few of them actually wanted Voldemort to come back. So again, what do we do with them?

"To take one example, Lucius Malfoy is in a cell right now. Now, I have classes with his son Draco. If we send Lucius off to Azkaban for a decade or two, what will that achieve? Lucius broken and maybe dead, and Draco determined to avenge him. The same is true for Crabbe, Goyle, and quite a few others. Punish them to the fullest extent of the law, and we guarantee another generation of war. That is not what my parents died for."

From somewhere in the chamber, a voice rang out that Harry didn't recognise.  
"You would have us set them free, boy?"

Harry smiled.

"If they're no danger, then yes. Break their power, take their claws away, and then yes. Set them free. Any Death Eater who can say under Veritaserum that he doesn't want to commit violent crimes anymore... I say let him go."

The same voice rang out again.  
"What if he changes his mind?"

Harry smiled.  
"The conditions of release will leave the freed Death Eaters harmless, or nearly enough. For a start, any of them who still want to rape and murder will be... destroyed."

There was instant uproar, which cut off abruptly as the soft click of the Rod of the Wizengamot overrode all noise. After a pause, Harry went on.  
"Second, the only way out is through St Mungo's. Assess them, especially the ones who've been in Azkaban all this time. Give them whatever help they need, and only let them out when a qualified Mind Healer says they're safe to be let out."

He gulped some water, then continued.  
"Third, any great fortunes will be surrendered to the Ministry."

Narcissa Malfoy stood tall in the ensuing silence, glaring imperiously at Harry.  
"For all your words of mercy, you would beggar me for no crime of my own?"

Harry shook his head.  
"Not at all, Mrs Malfoy. If I get my way, I'll make sure every family still has enough to live comfortably. I just don't want anyone buying their way out of trouble in the future. Oh, and obviously they can't hold office or give money to anyone who does."

Harry very carefully avoided looking at Minister Fudge, but he saw many other heads turning in that direction. He went on.  
"Any former Death Eaters who already don't have enough to live decently, I want the Ministry to provide for. We'll have all these spare Galleons, after all, and the last thing we want is desperate Death Eaters doing whatever they have to to survive. Um... Also, every Death Eater who goes free gets a trace put on his wand. Keep a record of every spell he casts with that wand, and destroy him if he gets another wand without the trace."

There was a general murmuring as the Wizengamot at large digested this. Harry and Albus sat in companionable silence.

Finally Amelia Bones rose to her feet, slowly, thoughtfully. Dumbledore acknowledged her, and ceded her the floor.

"My niece Susan has classes with Mr Potter here, and with Draco Malfoy, and Gregory Goyle, and all the rest. I am quite certain that Mr Potter is correct when he predicts that harsh punishment of the Death Eaters would all but assure us of another war in a few years' time. Yes we would win that war, but good people would die for it. I stand with Mr Potter, although as Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement I declare that the conditions of Mr Potter's proposal are not up for debate."

Augusta Longbottom stood abruptly, and glared at Dumbledore until he ceded the floor to her. She then turned a withering glare on her old comrade Amelia Bones.  
"Have you gone quite mad, Amelia?" she demanded imperiously. "Have you forgotten what horrors these monsters wrought upon our society? My Frank's torturers will not walk free while I draw breath, Amelia. Mark my words."

Amelia's voice grew deceptively mild.  
"I forget nothing, Augusta. Your Frank was my Frank also - one of the best Aurors I ever commanded, and a good friend besides. And have you perhaps forgotten Edgar? My own brother, Augusta - no, I have not forgotten. But, Augusta, answer me this. You demand vengeance for your Frank, but would you sacrifice your Neville's future to that end? My own answer, for Edgar and for Susan, is no."

For the first time that Harry could remember, and indeed for the first time that many among the assembled Wizengamot could remember, Augusta Longbottom was utterly lost for words. She seemed somehow to deflate, as if the righteous fury which sustained her had simply bled away. There was a long pause before she was able to form words.

"No," she whispered hoarsely, "not Neville. Not... Not even for Frank."

Amelia, experienced in the ways of the Wizengamot, stood tall and stared around.  
"I trust my point is made? Our grudges and our hatreds count for precious little against the future of our children. I would give my life for that, without a second thought, and I know I am far from alone in that. How hard can it be for us to master our grudges and spare some lives instead, for the sake of our world?"

Harry stood calmly beside Dumbledore, and wisely said nothing. Once it became clear that the Wizengamot as a whole had been swayed, Dumbledore called the vote. It passed unanimously, having for various reasons the full support of every faction present. To Harry's surprise, the motion included almost no detail - it effectively gave the Chief Warlock complete freedom to determine those details as he saw fit.

* * *

Several days later, Lucius Malfoy was the last Death Eater to be brought into the Hall of the Wizengamot. He sat rumpled and unshaven in the chair, but his eyes were fully alert as he openly assessed the mood of his jurors. He looked up as the Chief Warlock silenced the Hall with a tap of the Rod.

"Lucius Malfoy," said Dumbledore, "you stand accused of answering Voldemort's call, when it was falsely sent by Peter Pettigrew from the graveyard at Little Hangleton. That you were knowingly an accomplice, both before and after the fact, to the attempted murder of Harry Potter by means of the Killing Curse from the supposed Voldemort's wand. There is more - far more - but you know as well as I that those charges alone are enough to see you in Azkaban for life. You will note that a number of your former allies are absent from proceedings today: Jugson, Nott, and so on. They have been convicted of treason, admittedly a decade or more too late, and their seats have been abolished. They cannot help you today.

"Please understand, Mr Malfoy, that your own family's seat on the Wizengamot will most certainly be abolished today; you confessed to treasonous conspiracy and actions in 1981, and your recent actions in answering Voldemort's call have invalidated your previous defence."

Lucius stared in shock, wondering how and when the old fool had learned this sort of ruthless competence. Dumbledore continued.

"We are aware of your Occlumency skills, Mr Malfoy, but we have consistent testimony against you from a number of other Death Eaters under Veritaserum; the facts of the matter are not in question. The question remaining is that of your fate; you have a choice to make."

Lucius stared. After a few seconds, Albus went on.  
"You stand to cheat Azkaban today, Mr Malfoy. You may find this difficult to believe, but it is by the efforts of Harry Potter that you might walk free today. He insists that we would be sowing the seeds of future war, were we to hold you strictly to account for your crimes, and he has swayed this body sufficiently that you now have a chance. Do you wish to take it?"

Lucius couldn't quite manage a sneer.  
"On what terms?"

"Your wand will be placed under the Trace, permanently. Should you acquire another wand without the Trace, your amnesty will end and you will face justice for your crimes. Should you use your wand to commit crimes, I myself will judge whether your amnesty should likewise be canceled. Your lordship and seat on the Wizengamot will be abolished, and you will be barred from making any contributions that might even seem to influence the decisions of the Wizengamot or the Ministry for Magic. You will retain your family home, and enough of your fortune to maintain a comfortable lifestyle; beyond that, your assets are forfeit. And finally, you will submit to assessment by St Mungo's as to your state of mind, and will submit to any treatment that the qualified Healers there deem necessary in order for you not to pose a threat to society. You have my word that no political influence will be exerted on that decision from any quarter - I will not allow it."

Lucius glared at the old man.  
"Are you satisfied, Dumbledore? All these years, and at last you can humiliate me?"

Dumbledore shook his head slowly.  
"No, Lucius Malfoy. I do not wish for you to suffer - quite the contrary. You will retain your home, your freedom, your family, your magic, your lifestyle. I seek only to ensure that you cannot harm my country, as you have done in the past."

Lucius Malfoy was not a stupid man. He had received a number of tremendous shocks in rapid succession, but now he began to recover his critical faculties. He noticed that he was still confused, and a moment later he finally noticed Harry Potter standing quietly behind Dumbledore. Lucius grimaced.  
"Potter," he said wearily, "what is this?"

At a gesture from the Chief Warlock, Harry stepped forward on the podium. He stared silently at the former Lord for a few moments, then spoke calmly.  
"Mr Malfoy, I know your son. I mean, I don't like him, and I know he doesn't like me, but I know he does love you. I don't want to take his father away from him. Family is important, and no matter how much he annoys me, he still doesn't deserve to lose his father."

Lucius Malfoy stared at the Boy Who Lived, thinking furiously. As an accomplished Occlumens and a former covert Death Eater, Lucius was something of an expert on deception. He saw no hint of it in Harry Potter's face or body language - either the boy was sincere, or he was somehow a world-class liar at age 14. Given that Draco's reports painted Potter as a typical heart-on-his-sleeve Gryffindor, he must surely be sincere. Well might the man stare - Harry Potter might as well be a magical creature, for all the sense that his mental processes made to Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius would eventually have to make a decision, he knew. He was still quite confused, and he definitely wasn't keen on the restrictions he would apparently be living under, but it was difficult to imagine any way that they could plausibly be worse than Azkaban. Finally he nodded.  
"Very well. I submit to the restrictions."

Albus Dumbledore smiled. Much to his opponents' surprise, it was an expression of pure innocent joy - he really was delighted that Lucius Malfoy could be saved. Harry's expression could perhaps best be described as satisfaction, but even now there was no malice visible on his face. Shockingly, it appeared that Harry Potter really did wish Lucius Malfoy well.


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Results

**Chapter Nineteen: Results**

* * *

**Mercy!  
**Boy-Who-Lived offers former Death Eaters a second chance

_Gentle reader, in the past few days your humble correspondent has had the extraordinary privilege to see history in the making. Harry Potter, long recognised as the Saviour of the Wizarding World, has saved many former Death Eaters from a lifetime in Azkaban. This remarkable young man has intervened directly in Wizengamot proceedings in order to plead for clemency towards the very people whom he has every right to hate, the people responsible for his own parents' untimely demise all those years ago._

_Mr Potter insisted that strict punishment of these former Death Eaters would serve to foment another generation of war in our community, and on this point your correspondent must agree - see page 6 for a more detailed analysis. Instead he argued, successfully, that they should be freed if possible. Once pronounced safe and sound by qualified Healers, each former Death Eater will be free to rejoin society as active and productive citizens. There are of course sensible restrictions to ensure that these rehabilitated witches and wizards cannot return to their former destructive ways - for details, see special report on page 9._

_At this point you may well be tempted, loyal reader, to wonder whether Mr Potter isn't perhaps a trifle delicate for the harsh realities of crime and punishment - after all, he is only 14 years of age. In this you would be sorely mistaken, however. Gravely mistaken. There will of course be those among the captured Death Eaters who, even now, cannot or will not renounce their fallen master. For these intractable cases there is little hope of recovery, and likewise scant hope of eventual release. Mr Potter spoke passionately against the cruelty of Azkaban, arguing that outright "destruction" would be kinder. It is not entirely clear just what form of 'destruction' the Boy-Who-Lived has in mind, but its permanence seems clear. No pansy he, to be sure. And thus has a mere youth decisively and yet gracefully ended the whole dreadful Wizarding War for good. It is all but impossible to imagine a similar outcome brought about by any other means than Harry Potter's intervention; indeed, entire generations yet to flower may well owe their very peace and happiness to this same young man._

_From all of us here at the Daily Prophet, a heartfelt "thank you" to Mr Harry Potter. May your future shine even one tenth so bright as your achievements to date._

* * *

Severus Snape glanced up at a knock on his office door, setting aside his Arithmantic workings for a new potion.  
"Enter."

To his great surprise, it was Harry Potter who walked calmly into the room and shut the door behind him. Severus regarded him coldly.

Harry didn't look even slightly nervous, but neither did he seem angry. He smiled faintly as he sat down on the spare chair.

"Potter," said Snape quietly, "why are you here?"

"To talk to you, Professor. I'm not sure you realise the position you're in right now."

Snape leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing.  
"Are you threatening me, Potter?"

"No no no, of course not. That's not it at all. Um... Look, obviously I know you were a Death Eater. Dumbledore says you're squeaky clean, so you're fine, whatever.

"Professor, he's gone. Voldemort, I mean. He isn't coming back. The Death Eaters are finished - they have no power now, and they never will."

Snape raised an eyebrow.  
"Your point, Potter?"

"You're free. Whatever it is that you were doing because of Voldemort, you don't need to do it anymore. Um... I don't like you, but this isn't about that. You really aren't a good teacher - sorry - but I have to admit you're brilliant at Potions yourself. Is this really what you most want to be doing right now, spending all your time yelling at kids who don't know or care about Potions the way you do?"

Snape stared blankly at the boy before him.  
"Your tact never ceases to amaze, Mr Potter."

"I try."

After a long pause, Harry stood up quietly.  
"The choice is yours, Professor. Do what makes you happy."

With that he left, not even looking at the incredulous Potions master.

* * *

Amelia Bones examined the small mirror in her hand. Delivered anonymously just a few minutes earlier, it had come up clean for every Dark-sensing spell she knew. And, this being Amelia Bones, that was a great many spells. Finally satisfied, she followed the instructions in the accompanying note.  
"Sirius Black."

The mirror came to life, showing the remarkably healthy-looking face of the wanted man himself. He smiled.  
"Hi, Amy."

Her expression didn't so much as flicker.  
"Don't try me, Black."

He shrugged, the playful grin dropping from his face.  
"Sorry, Amelia."

She nodded faintly.  
"Where are you?"

"Not in Britain, that's for sure."

"What do you want?"

"Your personal guarantee that, when I surrender myself to the Ministry, I won't meet with any unfortunate accidents."

She stared at him through the mirror for a moment, then nodded.  
"You have it. I'll meet you outside the building when you do come, and bring you in with me. If anyone wants a piece of you, they'll have to take a piece out of me first."

Sirius visibly sagged with relief.  
"Thank you."

Bones shrugged.  
"You are innocent, yes?"

"Of course."

"Then you have nothing to fear. Your godson changed things quite a lot here - these days I can make promises like that."

Amelia caught a glimpse of Sirius' beaming face, and then the mirror was reflecting her own face again.

* * *

Chatter in the Great Hall was loud and confused as the students passed around copies of the Daily Prophet and tried to understand what Harry Potter had done. Harry was just trying to eat his breakfast, and was somehow surprised when he was interrupted.

"Potter," said Draco Malfoy quietly from behind Harry, "what's your game?"

Harry turned in his seat, noting that Draco seemed scared and confused. He paused.  
"Peace. I want peace. If your father keeps his nose clean from now on, then I have no issue with him. Same goes for you, actually - leave me and my friends alone, and I won't bother you. Oh, and don't bully younger kids either."

Draco had grown up quite a bit, in the years since his first meeting with Harry Potter had gone so very wrong. He paused to actually consider what Potter was saying.  
"Alright, Potter. I'll play nice."

He paused.  
"And, um... Thanks."

"Welcome."

As Draco walked away, Harry saw a queue forming - an actual queue - to talk to him. He sighed, waving Flora Carrow to the empty seat next to him as he returned to his breakfast.

* * *

"Come in, Severus."

Severus Snape walked into the Headmaster's office, absently closing the door behind himself.

"You look well, Severus. What can I do for you?"

The younger man gave a rare smile.  
"It has been brought to my attention that there is no longer any reason why I should spend my days with indifferent dunderheads. The Dark Lord is gone, Headmaster. Dead. Bereft of life. My usefulness as a spy is at an end, Headmaster, with no Dark Lord for me to spy on."

Dumbledore stared into the middle distance for some time. Severus was of course correct, and yet Albus had somehow not anticipated this. He sighed.  
"I must think on this, Severus."

Severus nodded.  
"One possibility is that I remain here in the castle. In that case I would continue to brew for Poppy, and would be happy to tutor a select few students who showed sufficient talent and discipline to impress me. My passion, of course, is research - you know that. Allow me to spend most of my time in research, and I shall be happy here."

Dumbledore smiled.

* * *

Amelia Bones looked up as a strange woman entered her office. Average height, slim and athletic. Brown face framed by curly light-brown hair, shoulder length. And, in person, a remarkably commanding presence - clearly this woman was accustomed to power. Amelia had never met her, but had no trouble identifying her from Aurors' photos.  
"Price."

The visitor, who was indeed Letitia Price, nodded calmly.  
"Bones."

At a gesture from the Director, she took the plain chair in front of the massive desk.

Amelia leaned forward slightly.  
"I don't often say this, but I'm surprised. It never occurred to me that anyone in your position would think to pay me a visit."

Price shrugged elaborately, betraying for the first time a hint of nervousness.  
"I'm aware that you and I have certain... differences of opinion, Director. I'm also well aware that you... follow... my career. Stupid people don't survive as long as I have, in the world I live in."

Amelia nodded.  
"True enough. Why are you here?"

Price smiled slightly.  
"Because I'm not stupid."

Amelia raised an eyebrow, and Price continued.  
"I operate in the shadows, Director. I provide services that the Ministry would prefer I didn't provide, but you'll never pin an actual crime on me. You know that - that's why you've never actually arrested me.

"Thing is, it's a balancing act. People are forever asking me for things that would seriously upset you, and I always have to tell 'em no. And then today some bugger asks me something so dim that I can't even just send him on his way."

Many and varied were the services provided by Letitia Price, but Amelia Bones had no doubt which one this would be.  
"A wand. Who?"

"Peter Pettigrew."

Even Amelia Bones raised an eyebrow at that, though she showed no other sign of surprise. She paused a long while before replying.  
"Thank you, Madam Price. I'm aware of the position you're in, and I appreciate your help. Do you have a wand ready for him?"

"Of course."

Price drew a wand from her handbag and handed it over.

The Director smiled, taking the wand in one hand and drawing her own with the other. She muttered under her breath for some time, her wand weaving intricate patterns in the air, before handing the other wand back to her visitor.

"As Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I authorise you to sell this wand to Peter Pettigrew. I give you my word that you will not be punished in any way for doing so. Again, thank you."

Price gave a shallow bow, tucking the wand back in her handbag. She said nothing more as she walked briskly out of the Director's office.

* * *

In a crowded Muggle shopping district in London, a loud "crack!" drew a great deal of attention to the newly-appeared figure wearing strange black robes and a bone-white mask.

Free from the scrutiny of the Wizarding world, Peter Pettigrew walked with an unaccustomed swagger.

"The hell's your deal?"

Pettigrew turned to face the large Muggle man who had dared question him. He paused, wand raised.  
_"Crucio."_

Seconds later he ended the curse, leaving the Muggle fool gasping and twitching on the ground.

The black-robed wizard spun smoothly towards the stupid Muggles rushing towards him. Giant invisible fists smashed them into the ground in rapid succession. Hidden by the mask, he smiled in satisfaction.

A moment later, the masked wizard crumpled and fell. Suddenly the street was flooded with people in dark robes, though their faces were uncovered. One approached the fallen wizard and bent down, and they both disappeared with a small "crack".

Other figures swarmed to the fallen Muggles, casting healing charms. Seconds later they moved aside for a second set of robed figures.

_"Obliviate."_

_"Obliviate."_

And so it went - obviously the Muggles couldn't be allowed to remember this. Other dark-robed figures were moving among the bystanders, casting mild Confundus charms to turn the attack into a Muggle street fight.

Less than five minutes after Pettigrew's dramatic arrival, the only trace remaining was the large number of vaguely confused Muggles.

* * *

"Sirius."

"Amelia."

Director Bones caught Sirius' arm in a remarkably strong grip, before Apparating both of them into her office within the Ministry building. There she activated three of her five sets of wards, and only then did she sit down behind her desk and wave Sirius to the other seat.

"So," said Sirius, "why did you bother to ask me if I was innocent?"

Amelia raised an eyebrow, and Sirius continued.  
"I mean, I know you have testimony from Pettigrew under Veritaserum. Isn't that enough?"

She smiled.  
"Sirius, I've been in charge of this Department for a long time now. I was an Auror before that - you should remember, I helped train your group."

He nodded.

"People always lie to me. Accused criminals, concerned members of the public, and of course my beloved Aurors themselves. You know that, Sirius. Or are you going to tell me you never fudged a sick day for a hangover?"

Sirius looked shifty.

"Exactly. People lie to me all the time. So I thought you were innocent, but of course I had to ask. Speaking of which..."

She held out a tiny glass vial with a clear colourless liquid in it, then paused as an alarm sounded.  
"Pettigrew. Stay here."

Sirius amused himself looking at everything within sight in the Director's office - everything he could see without touching, anyway. He wasn't stupid, after all. Nearly ten minutes later, Bones returned.

"Get him?" asked Sirius, trying to sound calm and uninvolved.

"Yes. He's in the cells. And now we need to know just what Harry meant by 'destroy'. Could you fetch him from Hogwarts for me? Bring Albus also, if you can find him."

Sirius nodded.  
"Will do."

"Thanks. Now, where were we? Ah, Veritaserum."

She proffered the tiny glass vial again. Sirius shrugged and nodded, then tipped his head back as Amelia walked around her desk to him. Very carefully she poured two drops onto his tongue, then returned to her chair.

"Are you now, or have you ever been, a Death Eater?"

"No."

"Were you the Potters' secret keeper?"

"No. Peter was."

"Have you ever killed a Muggle?"

"No."

Amelia handed over a small bottle of a dark blue liquid. Sirius drank it, then trembled violently for a few seconds.  
"Good grief, that stuff is vicious!"

Amelia shrugged.  
"You'd rather wait until the Veritaserum wears off on its own next time?"

He shook his head.  
"OK, maybe not. Um, so, am I clear now?"

"Free to leave. Come and talk to me later if you decide you want your old job back. Right now, go fetch Harry Potter."

* * *

Sirius found Harry in an otherwise empty classroom, deep in thought.

"Knut for 'em, Harry?"

Harry flickered into a half-crouch, wand pointed directly at Sirius as he evaluated the threat. A moment later he returned the wand to its holster.  
"Sirius! Don't do that to me!"

Sirius walked forward and hugged his godson.  
"Sorry."

"Um... Not that it's not brilliant to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"Fetching you. They caught Pettigrew, and I thought you should have a chance to talk to Amelia Bones before we do anything permanent about him."

Harry nodded, and the two of them walked briskly out of the room.

Several corridors later, they were intercepted by the Headmaster.  
"Sirius! Harry! Off to the Ministry to see about Pettigrew, are you?"

Sirius rolled his eyes.  
"Yes, Albus. Would you like to come with us?"

Dumbledore added himself to the party, laying hands gently on each of the younger men and Apparating them to the Atrium in the Ministry building.

* * *

Amelia wasted no time when the three wizards arrived in her office.  
"Harry, what exactly did you mean by 'destroy'?"

Harry shrugged. He paused for a full minute or more, then smiled slightly.  
"Can we take away his magic?"

Amelia raised an eyebrow.  
"Yes - the Clyce Wand in the Department of Mysteries."

"Excellent. Take away his magic, change his appearance permanently, and modify his memory so he thinks he's a Muggle. Then we just need to set him up in the Muggle world somewhere, and he can live out his life without ever being a threat again."

Harry, Amelia and Sirius all looked at Albus, who frowned.  
"How will he survive in the Muggle world?"

Harry raised an eyebrow.  
"Give him useful skills, obviously. Train him as a carpenter or something."

Albus turned to Amelia.  
"May I leave that in your hands, Amelia?"

She nodded.  
"I'll see it done, Albus. We certainly don't want our new friend Jack causing trouble in the Muggle world."

The old man smiled beatifically.  
"I shall require Severus' help in modifying Peter's appearance, but otherwise I see no further difficulties. Excellent work, everyone."

He paused, looking around at the others.  
"Are we all of one accord?"

Agreement all around, and the meeting was over.

* * *

**Justice!  
**No third chance for convicted Death Eater Peter Pettigrew

_Peter Pettigrew learned today the difference between mercy and weakness. After his conviction and subsequent release under strict conditions, Pettigrew proceeded to flout those restrictions by obtaining another wand. This alone was grounds for "destruction", according to the conditions under which he was freed. He then Apparated to a crowded Muggle area and began casting curses, torturing one and seriously injuring several others before Aurors arrived to arrest him._

_The Boy Who Lived made the following statement when he, Amelia Bones, and Albus Dumbledore returned from the Department of Mysteries without Pettigrew:_

_"_Justice has been served. Peter Pettigrew thought he was above the law, but we have proved him wrong. Let this be a warning to any other reformed Death Eater who might be considering a less-reformed path. However, I have been a bit alarmed by some of the comments I've heard about executing criminals. To be clear, we did not kill Peter Pettigrew. The Ministry does not have the power to execute criminals, and that's as it should be. We are witches and wizards. Just as we can do better than having people tortured to death in Azkaban, we can certainly do better than killing people.

"Mr Pettigrew is no longer a wizard, and no longer knows himself by the name Peter. He will now have a fresh start in the Muggle world, free from all the disappointments that our world has ever dealt him. I hope he's happier there than he was here."


	20. Chapter Twenty: Graduation Pt 1

**Chapter Twenty: Graduation, part 1**

Seated behind his ancient oaken desk, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore beamed.  
"Harry... First, let me tell you, I am tremendously proud of you. I won't say you've learned all that I can teach you, not yet, but you've certainly done a fine job of learning everything that I have taught you in our time together. Your dedication is greatly to your credit - more so, in my opinion, than even your defeat of Voldemort."

Harry smiled, blushing slightly.  
"Killing Voldemort was luck, honestly - I had a chance and I took it. And all the study and training since then... I had to, that's all. There's just so much I have to do."

"My point exactly, Harry - my point exactly. For years I dreaded even burdening you with the knowledge of your heavy destiny, only for you to fulfil it in your fourth year. And then, if you please, you promptly took an even heavier destiny upon yourself. Indeed, I shall be entirely content to pass my mantle on to you."

Harry gaped.  
"Huh?"

"I'm an old man, Harry - older than you know. My magic has sustained me far beyond any normal lifespan, but even magic can only do so much. I fear it's well past time I should be training my successor. Such things are never quite certain, of course, but I should be surprised indeed to see five years beyond this one just past."

Harry frowned.  
"Isn't there anything you can do about it?"

"Not a thing, I'm afraid. You see, there's nothing in particular wrong with me - I'm just terribly old. And the only known cure for that condition, my dear Harry, disappeared from the world with the passing of my old friend Nicolas in your first year. And even there, you should know that the Stone was far less useful than you might imagine. I might well have been tempted to use the Elixir myself, but I'm afraid it works only for the maker of the Stone.

"Harry, my friend, don't look so sad. To you death is a tragedy, and indeed it would be a very great tragedy if you were to die now - you're still so young, with the greatest works of your life still before you. But Harry, I am old. My body grows frail as my magic finally begins to fail me, certainly, but more than that - Harry, I have no great works left to accomplish. I carried out research in my youth, much of it with the help of dear Nicolas. I taught the wonders of Transfiguration to generations of Britain's witches and wizards - in truth, still perhaps the most rewarding accomplishment of my life. I defeated Grindelwald - poor misguided Gellert - though I do regret much about our association. I have presided over the Wizengamot for many years now, and Hogwarts, and even the International Confederation of Wizards. And finally, last but by no means least, I've seen you rise to shoulder the burden of doing what must be done. I've made many mistakes, Harry. Some of them have been altogether too costly, as you of all people must know. But know this, Harry - in this moment I am tremendously proud of my life. Someday you, too, will understand the profound satisfaction of my current vantage, Harry, when you, too, have lived a long life and transformed the world as you felt bound to do. In truth, I rather suspect that your deeds will far outshine my own. And that, dear Harry, gives me peace enough to embrace Death as a friend after all these years."

Harry nodded slowly.  
"I'll still be sad."

"I suppose you will, at that. Very well - we shall have to make the most of the time we have. I promise you I will hold nothing back - whatever I can teach you, I will."

Harry smiled.  
"Thank you."

Walking away from the Dumbledore's office, Harry rounded a corner and came face to face with Draco Malfoy and a group of Slytherins.

"Malfoy."

"Potter."

After a long pause, Draco spoke more quietly.  
"Potter... Harry... Look, I know I've been a right shit to you at times, especially in our first few years here. And honestly you still annoy me sometimes, Mr Bloody Perfect Potter, but... thanks. You've been decent to me, consistently decent to me, for three years now. You've stopped the stupider Gryffindors from hassling me and my friends - don't think I didn't know about that. And I mean, I know Father's still a bit ticked off with you, but honestly you were _nice_ to him! You saved him from Azkaban. He may not be able to say it, but... thanks."

Harry inclined his head, acknowledging Malfoy.  
"Thanks, and you're welcome. Um... I have to ask though, why the small army?"

Draco glanced around at his companions, and to Harry's surprise it was Gregory Goyle who stepped forward. Goyle had grown into a remarkable athlete, tall and powerful – he had been a Beater for Slytherin for some time now, and a remarkably good one at that. His marks had... actually, Harry realised he didn't even have a clue what OWLs Goyle had managed two years earlier.

"Potter," said Goyle quietly, "I don't understand why my dad joined... _Voldemort._.. in the first place. I wasn't there. Maybe he really chose that. Maybe he really was happy about it to begin with. Like I said, I don't know. All I know is, my dad told me it was the best thing that ever happened to him, when that bastard tried to kill you and got blown up instead. He's smarter than he lets on, my dad - taught me that too. He knew his old master wasn't really gone, or at least thought he knew. I tell you, my dad was bloody terrified the bastard might come back someday."

Goyle paused, visibly calming himself.  
"And then he did. Don't give me that golem crap - my dad says that really was Voldemort in the graveyard that night, and that's good enough for me. And then suddenly the Boy-Who-Lived does it again, and next thing anyone knows my dad and the rest are in prison. And then that same Boy-Who-Lived makes a speech, and I get my dad back. Malfoy's dad may be pissed off at you, but mine'd swear allegiance to you if he could. So I'm here because I owe you too. Same goes for all of us. So... yeah. Thanks, Potter."

To Harry's further surprise, Goyle took another step forward and shook his hand. The others took their cue from that, and suddenly Harry had a reception line. The boys shook his hand and the girls hugged him, and every single one seemed completely sincere. Harry grinned like a loon.

* * *

After a blissfully solitary walk along the lake shore, Harry headed back to the castle. As he passed the open door of Greenhouse Three, he saw Neville working quietly on what looked like Venomous Tentacula. On a whim, Harry headed in.

"Hi, Harry," said Neville quietly, not so much as glancing up from his work.

"Hi, Neville."

Neville still didn't look up, but he seemed happy enough to chat.  
"Three quiet years, eh Harry? Bet you didn't see that coming."

Harry grinned.  
"Not really, no. Definitely not complaining, though. Give me the quiet life any day."

Neville laughed.  
"Yeah, of course. I believe you, Harry - of course you love a quiet life. That's why you took out Voldemort and the Death Eaters back in fourth year, isn't it? And why you went and strong-armed the Wizengamot about that, and why you've been secretly meeting with the goblins ever since then. And Dumbledore, too."

Harry gaped at his friend, who continued working and still didn't look up.

"Harry," he said patiently, "I'm not stupid. I notice things, you know - I just don't let on, most of the time. And... Look, I've thought it through. You've been learning politics and magic, and I know you've been training. I think you probably actually killed Voldemort, back in fourth year. I think Dumbledore's going to tell us the real story today. That'll make you everyone's favourite even more, and you know Fudge is up for re-election in a few weeks."

Harry nodded slowly.  
"Yeah, and...?"

"And you'll be the next Minister for Magic, obviously. Assuming you go for it."

"What?"

"I said, you will be the next Minister for Magic. If you run for it."

"Not a chance."

"You won't run?"

"I won't win. Neville, I would love to be Minister now. It'd make things so much easier for me, the things I want to do. But do you really think anyone would vote for me, just barely out of Hogwarts?"

Neville tossed one last clipping in the tub, and finally turned to face Harry. His face, leaner and stronger these days, was perfectly serious.  
"Of course they will. I will too. Harry, you just don't see it. You're practically a mythical figure, mate, like Merlin or Morgana. The papers love you, the public loves you. And honestly, the Wizengamot... They're a grouchy bunch, and they'll fight you on petty little things half the time, but really what they want is a strong leader who'll give them direction. Fudge has been a complete disaster there - the only reason he still has the job is 'cause no one with half a brain has tried to take it. Until now."

Harry continued to stare at Neville Longbottom, who really had grown up remarkably well. After another pause, Neville went on.  
"Look, I think I know what you're trying to do. You want to fix all the stuff that's wrong with our society right now, starting with maybe treating goblins like actual people. Um... Look, it's obvious that you're the new power, or you're about to be. You're not actually going to take over Dumbledore's faction, but they'll support you anyway. Still, you'll need your own group, loyal to you in particular. Obviously you'll have Sirius Black for a start, but I want you to know that I'm in too. If you'll have me."

"What, seriously? Neville, of course! I'd love to have you on my side! I'm just not so sure I'll be able to do anything so soon, that's all."

Neville grinned.  
"Well I'll be in your gang anyway, Harry, even if you're not Minister for Magic straight away."

Harry paused, embarrassed. Finally he grinned.  
"So, Hannah?"

Neville twitched violently.  
"What?"

Harry chuckled.  
"Hannah Abbott. You know, blonde pigtails, about so tall?"

Neville shrugged, blushing.  
"She's a good friend. I don't know about anything more than that - I'd be too scared of messing up the friendship. And it's not just Hannah, you know. Our whole group works really well together, and I'd hate to spoil that. Plus I'm not totally sure I wouldn't rather date Luna. Dammit Harry, I don't even know how I feel about Susan. I mean, they mean the world to me. I'd say yes to any of them in a heartbeat, no question. But I can never ask any of them, because that'd mean not asking the other two. And I can't very well ask anyone else, 'cause that'd mean not asking all three of them. Not that there _is_ anyone else I'm interested in, mind you. Nope, only the three girls for me. Keep things simple, you know?"

Harry nodded sagely.  
"I don't know whether to envy you or pity you. At least I only have two to worry about."

Neville's eyebrows shot up.  
"Ginny and Hermione, obviously, but... really? Good job, Harry - I had no idea it was like that between you. And I hear a lot more gossip than you think, believe me. Anyway... Any ideas what you're going to do about it?"

Harry grimaced.  
"Hate to say it, but it's probably down to circumstances. Hermione and I are going to be working together all the time, and Ginny'll be back here at Hogwarts. Plus Ginny's not so interested in boys right now anyway- she's way too wrapped up in Quidditch. I mean, it's not that I _mind_ the idea of ending up with Hermione - it's just a bit awful to think it's not about searching my own feelings and all that stuff."

Neville shrugged.  
"So it goes."

"Yeah."

After another pause, Harry glanced at the Tentacula that Neville had been working on.  
"So, you're staying here?"

Neville grinned.  
"Yeah, apprenticing under Professor Sprout. It'll be brilliant, seriously - she knows so much, and I'll get to spend all my time doing Herbology and learning more. I think she's even going to let me teach classes sometimes, which should be loads of fun."

Harry smiled warmly at the young man he'd lived with for seven years now.  
"Inspiring the next generation?"

Neville nodded, completely serious.  
"Seriously. I mean, Professor Sprout's amazing as a Herbologist, but even I didn't really _get_ her until maybe about fourth year. Any kids that aren't already interested, I just don't think she's going to get them fired up about Herbology. That's... that's what I want to do. And grow stuff, obviously."

"Obviously."

"Actually, I need to talk to Hermione today. I was reading some stuff that Seamus gave me - you know, Muggle stuff - and apparently Muggles can see the actual elements in the soil. All the complex stuff I know about soil character and all, the Muggles actually know why it works like that. I reckon if Hermione's interested, we could probably make some pretty major improvements working together."

"That sounds pretty cool, Neville - I'll let her know you want to talk to her. It's ground-breaking research and she's Hermione - I think it's pretty safe to say she'll be interested."

Neville grinned.  
"Hard to argue with that."

* * *

Elder gazed around in open wonder at the vibrant beauty of the Hogwarts grounds in full sunlight. He had seen daylight before, of course, but he'd spent the vast majority of his life underground. That hidden world had its charm and elegance, but he was entirely unprepared for the sheer colourful beauty of a magical rose garden. Vast spaces he was somewhat accustomed to, but vast _alive_ spaces were completely new to him - the expanse of well-tended grass was a revelation. Yes, it really would be good to bring his people into the sunshine. He smiled, and touched a finger to the device which would tell Harry he was here.

"Elder!"  
Harry Potter had appeared suddenly, seemingly from nowhere. Elder's guards tensed for a split-second, then relaxed as they recognised Potter. They all knew him by now.

Elder smiled tolerantly.  
"Harry my friend, it's good to see you. Do try not to surprise my guards too badly, though - they really are quite quick with those axes."

Harry grinned.  
"I'll have to remember that. How are you?"

"Unusually cheerful - it's beautiful out here."

"Yeah. You wouldn't be used to that, I suppose."

"Not yet, no. Have you any further thoughts as yet, on what you'll do next?"

Harry shrugged.  
"Neville thinks I could be the next Minister for Magic, starting in a few weeks. I'm not so sure about that, though it would be convenient. Anyway, my plans are pretty simple - start working to reform this whole stupid political system, and do magical research with Hermione in any spare time I have. What do you think?"

Elder looked fondly across at Harry as they walked.  
"I think Lord Longbottom is most likely correct. I'd not have predicted it myself, but that young man has never been one to make such claims without good reason. We must assume he has information that I lack."

Harry looked thoughtful, and Elder continued.  
"Harry, the Wizengamot has achieved nothing of note in the years since you and I first met. It was necessary that you first attain your majority and finish your schooling, but now your time has arrived. Now you must light a fire under those trivial squabblers, and see if we can't bring some sense into the Wizarding World."

Harry smiled appreciatively.  
"I'll see what I can do."

As if on cue, a small group of people approached the two. Harry smiled faintly.  
"Here comes politics."

"Wonderful!"

Albus Dumbledore led the group, smiling genially.  
"Ah, Elder. Truly, it's been too long."

Elder gave a short bow.  
"Indeed, Albus, indeed."

Dumbledore gestured to the man at his side.  
"Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic."

He gestured to the unarmed goblin.  
"Elder, the... well, leader, of the British goblins."

Elder grinned, baring a mouthful of rather impressive teeth.  
"Delighted to meet you."

He stepped forward and offered his hand; Fudge shook it, murmuring indistinct platitudes.

"Big smiles for the camera, gentlemen?"

Wizard and goblin stared at Rita Skeeter, before both of them smiled for her photographer. A bright flash, a puff of purple smoke, and history was made.

"So," said Rita briskly to Elder, "may I ask what draws such a powerful individual to a Hogwarts graduation?"

Elder smiled, seeming to relax for the first time since seeing Dumbledore.  
"Harry Potter. My young friend holds both your world and mine in his hands, and today he officially enters adult society. This marks, not quite a beginning, but certainly a major transition both for him and for all of us. How could I stay away?"

Rita nodded.  
"Any concerns for your personal safety today?"

Elder chuckled.  
"At a major event within Hogwarts itself? I should hope not. Besides, I don't believe I have so many deadly enemies among your people."

Rita blushed, Dumbledore beamed, and Harry hid a smile.

* * *

"'Arry!"

Harry turned, and was engulfed in a hug from Fleur Delacour. He hugged her back, grinning.  
"Hi, Fleur. Thanks for coming."

"But of course, 'Arry, 'ow could I not? Mon petit 'Arry is finishing school!"

Harry laughed, holding her at arm's length and looking down at her from his newfound height.  
"Little, Fleur?"

She caught his eye and blushed.  
"Eh bien, not so leetle now. Anyway, 'ow are you?"

Harry pulled her close again.  
"Never better. You?"

"I spend my time being... charming... to boring or nasty old men. Men 'oo run countries, pouah! Eet ees so good to see a man 'oo is neither repulsive nor my father. My father is perfectly lovely, you understand, but 'ow I wish 'e were not ze only decent man in my life now."

Harry hugged her tighter.  
"Alright Fleur, I'll make a special point of introducing you to other decent men today. I reckon I know quite a few, to be honest."

Fleur shrugged.  
"You are not Veela."

"True. I'm not even close to being that good-looking."

Fleur laughed, relaxing for what looked to Harry like the first time in quite a while.

"So," he said, "any word from Viktor? I've been pretty isolated here."

"Oui, but 'e could not come. Quidditch, you understand - 'e plays tonight. But Cedric should be 'ere."

"Ah. Pity about Viktor, though I suppose it's not really a surprise. It'll be good to see Cedric, though – I haven't seen him... Huh, I don't think I've seen him since the wedding. Wow."

Fleur laughed.  
"Eh, c'est ça – school ees eets own world, especially 'Ogwarts."

"Yeah, you're right. I mean, I love Hogwarts, but at the same time I'm really looking forward to spending time out in the real world."

Fleur looked thoughtfully at Harry.  
"What ees eet zat you plan to do een zis 'real world', 'Arry?"

Harry shrugged.  
"Oh you know, take over the world."

"Quoi?!"

Harry grinned.  
"Well, mostly I just want to make Magical Britain a bit less stupid."

"Good idea, but 'ow?"

"Start my own faction in the Wizengamot, become Minister for Magic, and basically talk a lot until things get saner. Seem fair?"

Fleur shrugged, trying to hide a grin.  
"Sure, no problem. Do you want me in your club also?"

Harry beamed at her.  
"Yes! Brilliant! I was just about to ask you, honestly – I'd love to have you in my club, Miss Well-Connected Diplomat."

Fleur laughed.  
"Not _zat_ well-connected, Monsieur Boy-'Oo-Lived!"

Harry grinned.  
"Oh I know, love - I'm a flippin' legend around here. Best believe I'll be exploiting _that_ for all it's worth. But I'm still not as pretty as you, and I still don't know half as many politicians as you do. So yeah, definitely happy to have you in my gang."

"Speaking of your gang, 'ere comes Cedric."

Harry spun around.  
"Cedric!"

Two years into his career as a professional Seeker, Cedric Diggory was lean and hard-muscled. He moved with an easy grace, and his face was still remarkably handsome. He grinned broadly as he ran forward to hug his old rival and comrade.

"Harry! Good to see you! Finally getting out of this madhouse, eh? I'll be honest – there were times when I didn't think you were going to make it this far."

Harry laughed.  
"Well yeah, there were times when I thought that too. Still, it's been years now since anyone tried to kill me."

Cedric tapped Harry's forehead.  
"Touch wood, mate – you're not out yet."

Harry looked past Cedric and smiled at another old Quidditch rival.  
"Hi, Cho. You're looking well."

She smiled.  
"Thanks, Harry. You too – you look like you've been training even more than I have."

Cho was by now nearly a year into her own Quidditch career, so this was saying something. She was still quite short, generally an advantage for a Seeker, but Harry noted that she had much the same build as Cedric now – lean and muscular. She also seemed to radiate a kind of fierce aliveness – Harry was suddenly quite glad that he'd never face her in a professional Quidditch match.

Harry shrugged modestly.  
"I'm not committed enough to play Quidditch professionally, but I have been working on fitness – never know when I'm going to be fighting for my life again. I'm overdue, you know."

Cho poked him in the chest.  
"None of that, Harry – you've made it this far, and you're absolutely not allowed to die now. Besides, I'm still hoping you'll get tired of politics and decide to play Quidditch after all. I never did get to beat you, you know."

Harry laughed.  
"Cho, I'm pretty sure you're better than me now. Besides, I'd be happy to run drills with you or something – it's just that I'd be too scared to face you in a real match now."

Cho said nothing to that, but smiled and hugged her old friend.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One: Graduation, Pt 2

**A/N: **Yes, this is the final chapter of _Harry's Loophole_. Longer A/N at end of chapter - for now, here's the story.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One: Graduation, Pt. 2**

"Harry!"

Jolted from his ambling reverie, Harry glanced down a side corridor to see Ginny beckoning him. He followed her automatically – she did seem to enjoy bossing him around, he'd noticed over the years.

She led him into an empty classroom, and cast several locking charms on the door. Harry raised an eyebrow, and she grinned. As usual, he couldn't help but mirror her.

"Harry," she said more quietly, "I..."

She paused.  
"You know I used to have a huge crush on you, don't you?"

Harry nodded.

"You know I got over it sometime around fourth year?"

Harry nodded again.  
"Hermione told me. She's good like that."

"It's... Harry, you're about to go away. And I'll miss you as a friend, definitely, but there's more. There always will be more, with you. There's nothing I can do about that."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Ginny held up a hand.  
"The truth is I never did get over you, and I don't think I ever really will. I just gave up on ever being with you. And Harry, I know. That hasn't changed. It still wouldn't work."

Again Harry opened his mouth, and again Ginny held up a hand.  
"I can't be with you, and you can't be with me. I know. I have Quidditch and Hogwarts, in that order, and you have Hermione and politics and research. In that order."

Harry stared at her. She laughed.  
"I'm not stupid, Harry. I've seen the way you look at her. I mean, I've seen the way you look at me, too. If you'd started looking at me like that a bit bloody sooner, then maybe we'd have a different story to tell. But you're going off to save the world again, and I'm still stuck here at Hogwarts for another year. And even when I do graduate, I honestly won't have time for a boyfriend. Unless he was in the League, of course, and I know you're not interested in that."

Harry gave a slight shake of his head, as if to clear it. His gaze suddenly became a lot less vague.  
"How long have you been planning this scene, Ginny?"

Ginny blushed.  
"A couple of months."

Harry took a half-step forward, then stopped irresolutely.  
"Ginny..."

He looked up at her face, seeming suddenly to regain his humour.  
"So, what comes next in the scene?"

Cheeks flaming, Ginny spun and walked away until she reached a wall. She leaned against it, still facing away from Harry.  
"What do you think, Harry? Ugh, I feel like such an idiot."

Eventually Harry walked over, and tentatively touched Ginny's shoulder. She flinched, then spun around to face him.

He met her eyes, trying to ignore the jolt in his brain when he did so, and likewise trying to ignore the force that seemed to be pulling his face towards hers.  
"Ginny, you're not an idiot. You just..."

He looked away.  
"Ugh, this is hard."

She stared at the floor, blushing furiously.  
"Yeah."

Harry laughed bitterly.  
"Maybe we're both idiots."

Ginny shrugged, and looked up to meet his eyes again. Good grief, those eyes... She shook her head sharply – too late for that.

As Harry stared awkwardly at a point just above Ginny's eyes, Ginny became uncomfortably aware of just how overwhelmingly close he was. Her back was pressed against the stone wall of the classroom, and he – well, he probably didn't realise just how much he was looming over her. He definitely didn't know what it was doing to her, she thought, as her eyes widened slightly.

Finally Harry met her eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it again. He took a step backwards, then turned and began pacing restlessly.

Eventually, Ginny broke the silence.  
"Ugh, good work Ginny. I should go."

Harry stopped and looked at her.  
"Ginny... Look, bugger this, alright? I don't want to lose you as a friend, and I absolutely refuse to be this bloody awkward with you. You're gorgeous, alright, and even I'm not dim enough to miss it. You're brilliant, you're funny, you're a genuinely lovely person. Absolutely I find you attractive, never doubt that. I mean, I think you're right, I really don't think we can be together, but never ever think it's anything about you not being good enough. Alright?"

Ginny studied his face for a few seconds, then grinned.  
"Done. I keep annoying you, you keep annoying me, and we both pretend that we're not in any way thinking about snogging each other's brains out."

Harry floundered helplessly for a moment before rallying. He nodded gravely.  
"That seems fair."

In the Great Hall, Harry found Hermione and Ron chatting amiably. Ron turned as his best mate arrived.  
"Harry mate, glad you could make it. We were starting to think you'd had a better offer."

Harry grinned.  
"You know how it is, mate – people to see, and all that. I wouldn't miss this, though. Apart from anything else, I'd hate to disappoint all the people who have bets riding on it. Me living long enough to graduate, that is."

Ron laughed, and Hermione glared.  
"That's not funny, Harry! You know I still have nightmares about you dying."

Harry looked away.  
"Sorry, Hermione."

Ron broke the silence a few seconds later.  
"OK, so, we all know about my plans – straight to starting Keeper with the Cannons. I'm sure I've talked your ears off enough about it. But I'm still not really sure what you two are doing. Research? Something with the Ministry?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a surprised glance. Had they really left Ron so much in the dark? Hermione nodded slightly, and Harry answered.  
"I'm basically trying to reform the Ministry, with Hermione's help. And Hermione's trying to rewrite the laws of magic, with my help. That's the plan, anyway."

Ron nodded.  
"Fair enough. Didn't really think you'd be a Ministry type like Percy, but anyone can tell Hermione was born to do research."

Harry grinned.  
"Not much like Percy, I don't think, mate – he's all about the rules, and I want to change them all."

Ron raised an eyebrow, and Harry continued.  
"I think I'm going to annoy your brother pretty badly, if things go well for me there."

Ron laughed.  
"Ah well, it'll do him good. He always was wound a bit tight, was Percy."

Harry finally found his seat, sitting with Sirius and Remus.  
"Harry!"  
"Pup!"

Harry gave each man a quick hug in passing, as he moved to his seat and sat down.  
"Sirius, Remus, hi!"

Sirius smiled slightly.  
"Harry, you might be able to help us. We're trying to figure out... well, how you became the sort of person that Hermione Granger would take seriously, intellectually. We... We really didn't see what was happening, at the time."

Harry laughed.  
"No big secret there, Padfoot – fourth year happened. I mean, for a start, it's amazing how much more time you have once you stop bothering with all the stuff that you're only doing because other people think you should. Like, take History of Magic. I probably know more about that than anyone else in my year, maybe even Hermione. I definitely know a lot more than what Binns has ever taught us. But actually going to classes for that? Waste of time. Complete waste of time. So I didn't, and that's that much more time I had for other things. Same with Divination, though that one I actually managed to drop."

Remus, who knew far less about Harry's subject choices, shot him a startled look.  
"Hang on, when did you drop Divination?"

Harry looked puzzled.  
"End of fourth year, why?"

"Um... How did you do that? You'd have still needed two electives, and wouldn't it have been too late to pick one up?"

Harry grinned.  
"Yeah, I picked up Ancient Runes."

Remus stared at him.  
"You picked up Ancient Runes at the start of fifth year? Harry, that'd mean covering three years of classwork in a single year!"

Harry smiled wryly.  
"I know, believe me. Hermione tutored me all through the holidays after fourth year, and I even had a few lessons with Bill Weasley towards the end. I'd never worked so hard in my life, mind you, but by the start of fifth year I was actually a bit ahead of the class. I kept working with Hermione and occasionally with Bill, and I got a pretty comfortable O on my OWL. And then my NEWT, for that matter."

Remus inclined his head.  
"I'm impressed, Harry - well done. Seriously, very well done. Your mother would be impressed, and I can give no higher praise than that."

Harry beamed.  
"Thanks, Remus."

Albus raised his hands for silence, and the packed Great Hall fell silent. The old man smiled genially.  
"We're here today to acknowledge the achievements of the fine students who are graduating today, the Hogwarts class of 1997.

"I could talk about their remarkable academic achievements. At the top, a handful of extraordinary students have done things that we hadn't seen in many decades. Overall, on average this cohort has higher marks than any since sometime last century. And perhaps most importantly, even the weakest among them have done better this year than for many years prior.

"This group of students, to my enduring delight, has set aside unfriendly rivalries to an extent that even I had never seen in Hogwarts before. They all work together regardless of House affiliation, and in just a few years they've transformed the entire school likewise."

He paused.  
"I say a few short years, my friends, because this remarkable state of affairs truly came about only at the end of the Triwizard Tournament three years ago. Harry Potter was kidnapped on the orders of Voldemort – yes, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – to be used in a ritual which restored him to a real living body."

Dumbledore paused again, as the audience dealt with that revelation.  
"The ritual was successful, I'm afraid, and Harry Potter faced a Dark Lord stronger and more terrible than ever. Mr Potter survived Voldemort's Killing Curse – again – and then... Ladies and gentlemen, as a fourth-year student, Harry Potter killed Voldemort. Again."

There was pandemonium in the Great Hall, and for several minutes Dumbledore let it run its course. This was, after all, a great shock to almost everyone. When the noise finally began to die down, he held up his hands for silence.  
"I personally saw the aftermath. Harry Potter unconscious, magically exhausted from casting such powerful spells as a mere fourth-year. Peter Pettigrew, Stunned. And Voldemort's new body, headless.

"Harry and I, with help from a few trustworthy people at the Ministry, were able to capture the remaining Death Eaters and bring them to trial. Happily, we were able to do this before the... less trustworthy... Ministry people could interfere."

A ripple ran through the audience, as Dumbledore went on.  
"I wish to be perfectly clear; at that time Minister Fudge was owned outright by Lucius Malfoy, the then Lord Malfoy."

The audience fell deathly silent; Dumbledore saw a sea of slack jaws before him, and smiled faintly.

In the silence, everyone could hear Fudge's quiet command to his Auror guards.  
"Arrest him!"

The silence shifted, from slack to tense. Dumbledore looked across at Fudge and his reluctant Aurors.  
"Arrest me, Cornelius? For what crime?"

As Fudge spluttered, Amelia Bones stood up and caught the Aurors' eyes. She nodded decisively.  
"Aurors, arrest the Minister!"

The Aurors did so, looking remarkably relaxed now that their boss had taken responsibility for the situation. Technically the Minister had authority over the Director of the DMLE, but really the Aurors answered to Amelia Bones. She had earned their respect over the years, while Cornelius Fudge most definitely had not – he had held his position for so long only because no one had made the effort to remove him, and because he had been careful not to annoy anyone too much.

Once the former Minister had been removed, Dumbledore stepped forward again.  
"My apologies, ladies and gentlemen – I had not intended such a scene. Now, where was I? Ah yes, the... corruptibility... of the Ministry at that time. Clearly we've come a long way since then."

A few people chuckled, and he went on.  
"Now, no doubt you're all aware how Harry Potter insisted on giving the convicted Death Eaters a second chance. Peter Pettigrew squandered that chance, and is now living out his life as a Muggle tradesman with no memory of the events that had so warped his character."

Interestingly, many in the audience seemed more horrified by this than they had been by the return of Voldemort or the arrest of the Minister. Dumbledore smiled.  
"Actually he's doing rather well for himself now – as his former Headmaster I can say that I've never seen him look so happy."

Some audience members, especially among the more traditional pureblood families, seemed even more appalled by this. Dumbledore nodded slightly.  
"As for the other freed Death Eaters, we've had no further trouble from any of them. For that matter, several are in this room right now. I won't point them out, but I say this to you all - they are always welcome in my school, as you all are."

A pause, then Dumbledore continued.  
"Now, I expect you're all wondering how it was that Voldemort was able to return in the first place. After all, didn't we find his burned and lifeless body in Godric's Hollow all those years ago?

"We now know that Voldemort had delved into the darkest arts, and had stored pieces of his soul in containers called Horcruxes. This required many acts of true evil, and it damaged him in several rather significant respects, but it did allow him to linger as some sort of shade after his body was destroyed.

"With help from Peter Pettigrew, this shade was bound to a new body – not precisely human, but near enough to serve its purpose. And as I mentioned earlier, this new body was promptly decapitated by Harry Potter.

"Now, at that time there were still a number of Horcruxes tying the twice-dead Voldemort to this world. Mr Potter and I were able to retrieve them, but I must most earnestly thank the Goblin Nation for actually cleansing those items. Not only is every piece of Voldemort's soul now gone from this plane, but we were able to recover the priceless historical and magical artefacts which he had corrupted to his use.

"Again, my thanks to the Goblin Nation. I sincerely hope that Wizarding Britain can improve upon its frankly stupid mistreatment of the Goblin Nation."

There was a murmuring throughout the Hall, as the audience tried to understand this latest shock.

"And now," said the Headmaster cheerfully, "I believe Harry Potter has something to say."

Harry stood beside Albus and stared out at the waiting audience.  
"Um... This is actually a complete surprise to me – I... I hadn't actually planned to say anything. So, um, sorry if I don't make much sense?"

The crowd laughed, and Harry smiled as he went on.  
"Look, I'll keep this short. Things are changing in our world – we all know that. After centuries of those so-called Goblin rebellions that Binns likes to bang on about, we finally have a chance for lasting peace and friendship with the Goblin Nation. After however long of Voldemort and his nonsense, and Grindelwald before that, we don't seem to have a Dark Lord around to make our lives hard. Or short, for that matter. Um... Look, we're about to have another election for Minister. We were about to anyway, even before Fudge... um, opened up the position. I just want you all to be the first to know, I want to be your next Minister for Magic. I think we all know there's a lot wrong with our Ministry right now, and I want to fix it. So, yeah, Harry Potter for Minister!"

Harry was entirely unprepared for the deafening applause – he still hadn't really understood how Magical Britain thought about the Boy Who Lived. He blushed a deep red, but couldn't help smiling as the cheering went on and on. Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as he thought.

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N:** Holy cow it's done! There will probably be a sequel, but it will be quite a different story - _Harry's Loophole_ itself is officially finished. As I write this note, the fic has: 102 communities, 658 reviews, 1,590 favourites, 2,375 followers, and a whopping 429,922 views. Let me tell you, I did _not_ expect anything like that sort of response. I am profoundly grateful to all of you, and especially to those of you who took my work seriously enough to engage with it intellectually. And yes, that does include most of the critical reviewers also. This story is far better than I could have made it on my own, and frankly I doubt I'd have finished it at all without a readership to encourage me. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart - I'm not exaggerating much at all when I say you've made an author of me.

On that note, a huge thank-you to my tireless beta Animekitty47. You've saved me from countless errors on a number of levels, given thoughtful opinions about all sorts of things, and prodded and/or reassured me as necessary. You've improved this story significantly all the way along, not least by prompting me to keep writing it. But it's more than that: I can't entirely convey the practical and psychological importance of always having an intelligent second opinion available. The writing of fiction is a doubt-riddled enterprise at times, at least for me, and it's tremendously helpful to have a trusted reality check to call on when needed. Thank you. You know the rest, after the millions of words we've exchanged. And yes, I did just do the math on that.

Love and joy,  
Pat


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